Stolen Moments
by Jessica237
Summary: All of the little moments we didn't get to see in 3x22, Neighborhood Watch. KD
1. one

******Title: **Stolen Moments******  
By:** Jessica******  
Pairing: **Kensi/Deeks******  
Rating:** T******  
Timeline:** Throughout 3x22: Neighborhood Watch.**  
****Summary: **All the little moments we didn't get to see in Neighborhood Watch. Should span about 10 chapters. **  
**

******A/N: **Credit for this idea goes to the fabulously awesome Shawn - my friend, I think you may have created a monster here. ;)

* * *

"Wow."

Ocean blue eyes hungrily take in the grandeur of the house before them as Kensi pulls into the driveway, slowly bringing the car to a halt. "Our humble abode – _not_ so humble," Deeks quips. "I can't believe we're getting paid to live here for three weeks."

Kensi rolls her eyes. "We're _not_ getting paid to live here for three weeks."

"Essentially we are." Deeks grins. "And you'd better believe I am going to make the most of every last second of it." He glances to Kensi, his grin widening at the slight disapproval in her eyes. "Oh, relax, Fern. I remember why we're here."

"Do you? Because I'm really wondering."

Deeks smirks. "See? This is what I mean when I say you need to lighten up a bit." She shoots a glare at him, but as usual, Deeks is unaffected. He might've been scared of them when their partnership first began, but now her threats just roll right off of him. She doesn't mean them…at least, not most of the time. "You forget that I worked undercover for years before I met you," he reminds her. "If you don't find something in it that you can enjoy, you'll burn out on it real quick. You can do your job and still have fun."

"Problem is, with you, that usually translates to: _I _can do our job while _you_ have fun."

He flashes her his best playful grin. "Hey, whatever works, right? That's what I call a _great_ partnership."

"Yeah," Kensi snorts. "You _would_."

"Hey, don't act like you're not excited that we've finally found some bad guys who know how to live it up." Deeks leans back, clasping his hands behind his head. "We usually get the seedy bars, the trailer parks, the back alley drug deals. It's not often that our covers live life in the lap of luxury."

"And here I thought you enjoyed the less glamorous ops," Kensi teases, shifting slightly toward him. "Especially the ones that leave you living for days under the pier, fighting the elements. Thought you said those ops built character."

He smirks. "They do. This…well, it builds character I'm _much_ more familiar with."

"_Right_."

He turns his gaze to her again, his gorgeous blues dancing with amusement. "Don't pout, sugar," he quips, using the first of many terms of endearment he plans to use in their time together. And he's got a _vast_ library of those. He wonders briefly just how many he can toss her way before she's threatening him with divorce papers. Just the thought amuses him – he does love getting under her skin. And for the length of their stay her, he knows he's mostly safe from reprimand. Melissa, after all, _adores_ Justin.

Deeks snickers internally. He thinks he might have to remind Kensi of that fact a time or two. "You're just upset that our little slice of heaven here," he says, gesturing toward the house, "doesn't come with housekeeping. You might actually have to learn what a vacuum cleaner is."

Kensi scoffs. "I _know_ what a vacuum cleaner is."

"But do you know how to _use_ one?" Kensi opens her mouth to retort, but Deeks doesn't give her a chance. "Or a washer and dryer? I bet you buy new clothes when things get dirty."

"Just because I don't _like_ to clean doesn't mean I'm _incapable_ of it," she huffs.

"You sure about that?" Deeks asks with a straight face. "Because I wonder. I _seriously_ wonder. I think you've forgotten how many times I've seen the inside of your place."

"You just haven't seen it on cleaning day."

"Cleaning day. Let me guess – happens with the same frequency as Halley's Comet?" He shakes his head and chuckles quietly. "Thank God we've got my dashing looks and charm to save this marriage because otherwise…"

He lets the end of that sentence trail into silence, satisfied with the lifted brow it elicits from his partner. Deeks flashes her a grin that's just filled with teasing charm. "Now come on, doll – don't look at me like that. You love me."

"Still having trouble mixing love and _loathe_, I see," she quips.

"I think you're the one mixing them up," Deeks shoots back effortlessly. "You wouldn't have married someone you _loathe_."

"Arranged marriage. I didn't have much of a choice."

"You didn't _want_ a choice."

She chuckles. "You can think that if it makes you feel better." With that, she releases her seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. "Come on. We didn't fight all that traffic just to sit in our driveway all day long."

But before she can open her door, Deeks reaches out and loosely curls his fingers around her other wrist. "Wait," he says quietly. She stops, but it's less in response to his quiet command, and more to do with the rampant spark of electricity that flickers through her body. It's gone as quickly as it had come, though, and she shrugs it off – surely she'd just imagined it.

He doesn't speak again immediately, and Kensi furrows her brow, a bit of confusion bubbling up within her. He'd been all for this assignment – she knows it's been awhile since he's gone under for any significant amount of time; knows he misses it. But as he sits besides her now, noticeably biting at the inside of his cheek, she can't help but wonder what's going through his mind now. "What is it?"

His blue eyes lock with hers, sending a chill rushing down Kensi's spine. He's gone completely serious on her, a complete one-eighty in less than thirty seconds. She's seen Deeks' serious side before, but not often enough that she's used to it – now, just as it usually does, it unsettles her just a bit. Sometimes, it even scares her. "Deeks."

"You know that once we get out of this car, we're Justin and Melissa, right?" he asks quietly.

Kensi's eyes dart to their hands as he – absently, she thinks – begins stroking the top of her hand with the pad of his thumb. "Of course I do," she replies a bit warily. She's not entirely sure where he's going with this, and as she tears her eyes away from their hands and back to his clear blues, she notes immediately that there's a complete lack of challenge in his eyes. He's not challenging her to prove something; he's not questioning her skills. What he is doing…well, Kensi can't quite figure that out.

He nods slightly at her answer. "You know we have to leave _us_ behind, right?" Deeks pauses. "You have to leave _Kensi_ behind."

It's a reflex, and possibly a rather harsh one at that, but at his words, Kensi can't help but tug her hand from his grasp and cross her arms over her chest instead. "What are you saying, Deeks? You're going to have to be more clear than that."

The corners of his lips twitch slightly with amusement. "Relax, Kens," he says quietly. Silently he reflects on the fact that this might be the last time for three weeks that he's able to use her name outside of a couple of pre-scheduled check-ins at Ops – which he thinks may be more for Kensi's benefit than his, as it's not an arrangement Deeks is comfortable with.

He's done long-term cover before, but never with built-in chances to break that cover. That, he knows, just makes it harder to let go of your true identity and fully become the alias. And beyond that, he knows this isn't something Kensi's particularly excited about.

She'd made that quite clear, after all, when Hetty had presented them with this assignment. Melissa is _nothing_ like Kensi. And Deeks knows that, at this point at least, there's nothing about Melissa and Justin's happily married life that Kensi herself wants.

And that just makes it all the more difficult for her to leave her identity behind.

There's also the issue of safety, too, and Deeks would be lying if he said he hadn't put a great deal of thought into that. For now, locked within the confines of their NCIS-provided rental car (which he's got to admit is a _hell_ of a lot nicer than any transportation LAPD ever provided him with), they're safe. They can still talk freely, for now. But once they go inside the house; once they let the car out of their sight, he knows they can no longer assume that. The next time they get in the car, whether to go grocery shopping or anywhere else, they _have_ to assume that it's been bugged.

After all, it's the first thing _he'd_ done on a past undercover op with LAPD: make sure to get eyes and ears on any new kids on the block. So Deeks sure isn't going to put that past whichever of their neighbors are involved in this sleeper cell.

He smirks inwardly. Kensi might think he's playing around, losing sight of the investigation in favor of taking a vacation while they're here, but the truth is that he's wrapped his brain around every last detail of this assignment. He knows he can _be_ Justin. He's just not sure that Kensi can get beyond playing Melissa and actually _be_ Melissa. "I'm just saying that I know you've never really done this before," Deeks answers after a moment. Even as he speaks, he swears he can see the walls continue to go up around her. "It's not a cover story that we've pulled out of thin air, like we usually do. It's a real alias, with real backstopping. We have to go all in."

"And you think I can't."

"Not at all," Deeks replies immediately. "I'm just saying that…sometimes, it can be easy to slip, and we can't afford that. We don't know what we're walking into – it would have been too suspicious to have the place swept," he points out. "Could be bugs, cameras, heat sensors…we just don't know." He grins. "You heard Hetty. We have to be at the top of our game at all times."

Kensi gives a nonchalant shrug, but Deeks can see in her eyes that she's not truly so unaffected. "Are you saying I don't always bring my A-game?"

Deeks smirks and plays along, rather than push her. "Well, let's just say that, compared with _my_ A-game, _your_ A-game is like a C-game."

His insinuations bother her a bit more than she's willing to let on. But rather than ruminate on it, she closes down and throws open her door, effectively bursting their current bubble, ending their final few moments as Kensi and Deeks, as partners. "You can bring that A-game of yours around to the trunk," she demands as Deeks follows her lead, "and get started carrying my suitcases inside." Kensi hesitates for a moment, but then grins as she punctuates her words with a sugary sweet endearment. "_Babe_."

Deeks groans as she opens the trunk. "Oh dear _God_. Really?" He glances from her to the contents of the trunk and back again. "You packed for like three _years_."

Kensi just shrugs, giving him a look of utmost innocence. "Variety, honey," she simpers. "Girl's gotta have some choice in her wardrobe."

"I give it ten minutes before this is all strewn across our bedroom floor," Deeks mutters, lifting the first rather heavy suitcase from the trunk and setting it on the ground.

Gripping his upper arm, Kensi gives it a would-be reassuring squeeze. "Well, looks like you've got this all under control!" she says brightly, flashing him a dazzling smile as she jingles her keys in her hand. "I'm going to go take a look around while you bring everything up."

Deeks laughs quietly, shaking his head. "Of course you are."

Telling herself it's all part of her cover, Kensi pushes herself to her toes and leans in, planting a quick, fleeting kiss to her partner's scruffy cheek. "Remember to lift with your knees, sweetheart."

And then with a playful wink, she's making her way toward the front door, leaving Deeks staring in amusement after her. "Sure my _wife_ wouldn't rather I carry _her_ over the threshold instead?" he calls out with a smirk.

He's not surprised that he doesn't get a reply.

* * *

She's sitting on the side of the bed thinking later that evening when Deeks flops down beside her on his stomach, a satisfied grin on his lips. The scent of chlorine tickles her nose and, combined with the dampness of his messy blonde hair, Kensi knows most of his late afternoon exploring has taken place in the rather large pool out back. "You know," he says, stretching leisurely, "I think I could get used to living here."

Kensi smirks, but every retort that touches her lips is one she knows she can't utter, because the man beside her isn't Deeks, her partner. It's Justin, her husband, and it takes her a moment to find a reply that works. "You going to make yourself useful while we're here or are you going to be floating in the pool the whole time? If you _remember,_ Uncle Mark is paying us to _housesit, _not lounge around for three weeks."

Deeks snorts. "We just got here, sugar bear," he teases. "We've got three weeks to stay busy. Tonight…well," he pauses and stretches again, letting out a low hum of satisfaction. "Tonight I plan to count all the reasons why I _clearly_ married into the right family," he quips, folding his arms beneath his head.

Kensi sighs softly and slowly lays back next to him. The change in position brings them face to face, and Deeks can easily see the amusement in her dark eyes as she replies. "I think I'm a bit insulted by that."

He slips easily into the role of her husband – something Kensi finds herself a bit unsettled by. "Well, I certainly didn't marry you for your prowess in the kitchen, princess," he smirks, draping an arm lazily across her stomach.

She laughs softly, turning her eyes to the ceiling above. "You married me because no other woman can stand you."

"That's right. You're powerless against my charm." He grins, knowing without even looking that she's rolling her eyes. "You finish unpacking yet?"

Kensi nods slowly, letting out a relaxed sigh. "I left you a drawer."

Deeks snorts. "You left me _a_ drawer. How kind of you. Your generosity is sexy, you know that?" Knowing he's pushing boundaries, he tightens his arm around her waist and pulls her closer to him.

And that...well, it's a bit too much for her. It's not necessarily the arm around her waist or the warmth of his breath against her cheek; it's not necessarily the fact that they're essentially cuddled together now on the bed. Instead, it's…_her._ It's the flutter of heat in her belly; it's the contrasting chill that races to the farthest parts of her body. It's the comfort and the coziness and the fact that this feels a million times nicer than she knows it should. It's the fact that, despite trying, her feelings for him are something she can't give a name to.

How in the world is she supposed to make it through three full weeks of this?

Rules, she thinks as she extricates herself from his grasp and sits up. They need rules.

"Mel?" he questions sleepily. He rolls onto his back, watching her as she stands from the bed – he doesn't have long to watch though because before he can even wonder what she's doing, she's grabbing his hand and yanking him upright. And then she's pulling him – rather roughly, if he's honest – into the bathroom.

He's a bit confused when she shuts the door and quickly crosses to the tub. Within seconds, it's filling with torrents of hot water from the faucet, and Deeks is about to make some quip about her not even lasting a day in this marriage without giving in to her desperate need to _have_ him when she crosses back over to him, stopping right in front of him.

She draws in a deep breath as steam from the tub begins to rise in the air around them, and then cautiously she lifts her hands, laying her palms gently on his hips. Deeks lifts a brow as his confusion grows, but everything quickly makes sense as soon as she speaks, her words a quiet whisper that's only barely audible over the spray of water. "We need to set some ground rules."

A smirk tugs at his lips as he takes full advantage of the moment – they don't know what, if any, kind of surveillance may be on the house, so they can't take any chances. This quick moment of broken cover is a great risk, even with the water to drown out their voices – it's not a risk they can take often. He plays along with her all too eagerly, though; looping his own arms around her, he draws her against his chest and lowers his head, playfully nuzzling at her temple as he whispers his reply. "Ground rules?"

Her immediate reaction to his sudden embrace is to tense in his arms. It takes a moment before she's able to force herself to relax; it's difficult, with the way her heart suddenly pounds almost angrily against her chest. Even more so with the fact that now, so close to him, she can't breathe at all without falling victim to the mingling scents of chlorine and cologne and Deeks. It dizzies her, and Kensi squeezes her eyes shut, trying to focus on the sound of running water instead of his scent and the strength of his arms around her. She knows he's caught onto her plan here, but that doesn't make it feel any less _real_.

Swallowing hard, she nuzzles into his chest, knowing it will further muffle her words to any outside ears. "Ground rules," she repeats. "Starting with keeping the pet names at a minimum."

"Mm, but Melissa likes the pet names," he breathes.

Kensi ignores him and carries on. "No unnecessary touching. Of me, or my stuff." She lets out a deep breath as he gently begins to stroke her back, no doubt in response to said rule. She doesn't stop him, though; in fact, she finds it comforting. Far too comforting – and that simply fuels the fire behind the last of her rules. "And you will sleep on the couch."

Deeks tears that one to shreds immediately. "Not a chance," he murmurs, his lips brushing her ear. It sends a shock through Kensi's body, one she's not able to contain, and she knows, just _knows_ that Deeks feels her tremble in his arms. "You pull me into the bathroom and turn on the water to hide this conversation in case we're bugged, but you somehow think it won't be noticeable if we're not sleeping in the same bed?"

He's got her there and he knows it even as he continues. "These aren't kindergarten criminals," he continues, his voice lower than before – so quiet, in fact, that Kensi has to strain her ears in order to hear it at all. "They mean business, and if we give them even the _smallest_ thing to be suspicious about…our cover is useless."

Kensi doesn't reply, and for a moment there's nothing but silence between them until he speaks again, his usual playfulness back in his voice. "I think you just don't want me to find out that you're a cuddler."

She can't punch him, and stepping on his foot would do no good in her slippers, so Kensi goes for the next best thing. She snakes a hand into his still damp hair, tightly twisting her fingers within the strands. And then she tugs.

It's not hard enough to _really_ hurt, but it's also not gentle enough that Deeks can suppress a reaction. He gives a quiet yelp and Kensi can't help but smirk. "You're lucky I can't hit you," she points out.

"Domestic assault, much?" he quips, releasing her and lifting his own hand to the back of his head. "Ouch."

"Keep it up and it's going to be homicide," she warns good-naturedly.

Rubbing at his head, Deeks just smirks. "Crime of _passion_, huh? I like it."

It takes everything she has not to punch him in the arm. Instead, she just grabs his wrist again and pulls him toward the door with a smirk at her lips. "Get out. I'm taking a bubble bath."

"Without your husband?"

"_Yes_. Without my husband." She opens the door and pushes him playfully back into the bedroom. "Now go."

Deeks grins. "What, you don't want me to wash your back? Amaze you with my killer loofah skills as I work all the kinks out of your body?"

Kensi gives a theatrical shudder. "Please don't ever say that again.

He laughs. "Fine. You enjoy your _lonely_ bubble bath, then," Deeks teases as she shuts the door. "But you know, if you…_want_ me, I'll just be out here…all by myself…on the bed…imagining!"

Deeks isn't totally sure, but he thinks he hears the faint click of the lock at that. Snickering to himself, he flops down on the right side of the bed and closes his eyes, Kensi's words replaying in his mind.

Ground rules? Yeah right.

He's _so_ going to enjoy the next three weeks.

And if he has his way, so will Kensi.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	2. two

_******A/N: **Wow, guys. I seriously don't even know what to say. Thank you all so much for all of your kind words - I appreciate every single one. I can honestly say I was (still am, really) floored, completely floored at the response to the first chapter - both in reviews and in alerts. You guys rock. I hope you all continue to enjoy. :) _

* * *

The icy cold water is a shock to his senses, but a very welcome one. Arms outstretched, Deeks dives flawlessly in with little more than a small splash. His fingertips graze the tiled bottom of the pool before he pushes himself back to the surface, drawing in a deep breath as he breaks through. His lips turn downward in a slight frown as he treads water for a moment – he misses the salt, the turbulence of the waves. And more than anything, suddenly, he's missing his board.

It's been an almost daily routine for him for years now – in college, and during his law school days, he never felt as if the day started out right unless he had his early morning surf. It'd been a daily thing while he was at LAPD; it remains daily now that he's with NCIS. Over the years, really, the only times he's ever forgone it have been the times that he _couldn't_, thanks to his cover. And as the days went on, he would grow restless, almost desperate for the feeling of freedom, of calm, of pure surrender that he's only ever found on the waves.

It's how he reminds himself who he is. It's how he reclaims his identity at the end of a long cover; it's how he reminds himself that he's _not_ the dozens of assorted aliases he's assumed over the years – and _that's_ why he's never succumbed to the desire while on assignment. He can't mix the two – he just _can't_.

So he stays away – even though it's his one weakness, he thinks. The one threat that could possibly break his undercover skills.

Well, that, and the feisty brunette still sleeping inside the house. In bed. In _their_ bed.

Deeks smiles as, predictably, she begins to infiltrate his thoughts.

Last night…well, it'd been more of a challenge than he'd been prepared for, and for the first time, Deeks is starting to think he may be in over his head with this, much deeper than he'd ever thought. Not this assignment, not assuming this particular role…but with _Kensi. _And if he's already feeling this overwhelmed after _one_ night, he has no clue how he's going to manage to survive twenty more.

It's not that he's never shared a night with her before, he thinks as he floats leisurely on his back, his gaze to the sky above. He _has_, and more than one. In fact, Deeks can recall each of them in his memory with striking clarity. The first time, he'd told her he was concerned she might have a concussion and shouldn't be left alone; they'd ended up sharing Kensi's warped idea of Christmas dinner in her den, watching old Christmas movies late into the night. He could have gone home after the first, maybe even after the second, but he'd stayed through to the morning – he doesn't think he could have found the will to disappear from her in the night, not _that_ night. Underneath a blanket (which had not been there the night before) on her couch, he'd awakened to the sound of distracted channel surfing and, until she finally noticed him, he'd quietly watched his partner, her legs tucked neatly beneath her in the small armchair just feet away from him.

_"You didn't have to stay,"_ she'd said.

Deeks had felt differently. Even then, so very early in their partnership, he'd known exactly what that word meant to him: whether she liked it or not, he was going to be there.

The second night, he'd found himself at her place with dinner (a burger for him; a smoothie for her) and a few beers after the King case. She'd spent the evening watching Top Model; he'd spent it mocking Top Model and shielding himself from her kicks (they were worth enduring, though, just to hear her laugh). At some point during the sixth episode saved on her DVR, no doubt aided by the fade of adrenaline and the rise of exhaustion (though a bit of the alcohol may have played into it as well), she'd rested her head upon his shoulder. Twenty minutes after that, she was out. And Deeks hadn't been far behind. The next morning, he'd awoken well before her. And it was lucky that she's such a heavy sleeper because it'd taken a few moments and some major jostling before he'd managed to untangle himself from her. He had, though (despite being the _last_ thing he wanted to do), and by the time Kensi woke, Deeks had nearly finished making breakfast.

That'd been for the best, he thinks even now. There'd been no awkward silences and no questions (well, aside from Kensi's faux-annoyed "_who said you could use my kitchen?"_). And perhaps best of all, he wasn't left wondering if she was going to pull away from him, close off from him after that night.

And until now, Deeks had managed to push both of those nights from his mind. They're partners; friends. And partners and friends look out for each other, he reasons. So this assignment shouldn't be any different.

Except it is _entirely_ different.

For a moment, Deeks closes his eyes, tilting his neck enough to submerge his forehead in the cool water. Last night, though he'd appeared calm and collected, though he'd played their usual game of flirty, suggestive banter right through until lights-out, he'd been anything _but_ calm. As she'd drifted into sleep beside him, he'd stared at the ceiling. He'd stared at the wall. He'd stared at the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. He'd rolled over and pressed his face into the pillow, desperate for any sort of relief from the storm in his head.

And damn, what a storm it is. He's sharing a bed with his partner. His beautiful, smart, sassy partner who he can deny having a thing for until the day he dies, but that doesn't make it any less of a lie.

Ray had said it best. They have _a thing._

A much denied, ignored, laughed at _thing_, sure…but it's a _thing_ nonetheless.

And they're sharing a bed for at least three weeks. Three weeks that he's going to have to face away from her, knowing that she's inches away from him, _just inches, _the scent of her shampoo teasing his nose and the softness of her skin as a leg or an arm brushes him more often than just occasionally (she's the most restless sleeper he's ever known).

Needless to say, he hadn't slept a wink last night.

And the first light of dawn had found him _desperate_ for the sea, for the swell and break of the waves, for the sturdiness of his board and the sureness of his feet upon it.

He'd settled for what he hoped would be the next best thing – it's definitely not the same, but it'll do. For awhile, he simply floats there, leisurely watching the last of the pinks give way to the brilliant blue of daytime, the sporadic white, wispy clouds playing upon the canvas. He's able to relax, to think, to mentally put things into place as far as this assignment and Kensi and the rules are concerned.

As long as they can play their game, he's fine.

As long as he can tease her, toy with her, banter with her like they always do, he'll be fine. That's easy; it's fun and natural between them, so natural that they've faced death together and still held onto the banter.

So as long as he has that, he doesn't have to worry.

It's the quiet moments that will prove to be the test, though.

Because it's in those quiet moments, while she sleeps next to him in bed, _their_ bed; when they'd stepped into each other's arms out of necessity of a private conversation in the bathroom; moments before that when he'd looped an arm around her on the bed and gently nuzzled her cheek…yeah, those are the moments that are going to _kill_ him.

Those are the moments that have him thinking he could want this.

That he could want _her_.

* * *

She's alone.

It's the first thing that registers in her mind as the haze of sleep clears, her eyes fluttering open in the early morning sunlight. She's used to it, of course; it just strikes her as odd this morning because she knows she hadn't been alone the night before.

She's sprawled in the very center of the mattress, her head resting on the lone pillow that remains on the bed. As she sits up slowly, Kensi can see that the rest are scattered about the floor, the blankets forming a tangled mess near the foot of the bed, no doubt her own doing.

Oh well, she thinks. She _had_ warned Deeks she's always been a bit of a restless sleeper.

She slips out of bed and ducks quickly into the bathroom; after brushing her teeth and combing a few tangles from her hair, she's on her way downstairs, following the aroma of coffee as it drifts from the kitchen.

It's not just coffee, she realizes with a smile as she reaches the kitchen. Skillets on the range, a tray in the oven, a couple of plates on the counter…and in the midst of it all is her scruffy partner. Kensi hovers in the doorway for a bit, watching as he moves around the kitchen. He's made her breakfast once before, and if that taught her anything at all, it's that Deeks certainly has all the skills in the kitchen that she herself lacks. A doughnut, a breakfast bar, a Twinkie from her hidden stash at Ops – that's her typical breakfast. Or, if she's feeling particularly health-conscious (not often), maybe a tofu scramble. Other than that, well, she just doesn't have the time or the patience or the desire to cook a real breakfast.

Or any other meal either, for that matter.

The errant thought crosses her mind – maybe she could get used to this. And by _this,_ of course she only means the convenience of having someone cook breakfast for her on a daily basis. Only that; nothing more.

She chooses not to linger on the fact that her eyes are drawn to him as he moves; chooses not to linger on the fact that she likes his slightly tight tee a little _too_ much. And she definitely, _definitely_ does not linger on how her fingers itch at the sight of his hair, messier than usual.

In the end, she tells herself she's admiring his cooking skills, simply because she has none of her own. That's allowed, after all.

It's not until he's removing the bacon from the skillet and dividing it between two plates that he speaks, the smirk Kensi hears in his voice telling her that he knows she's been there for quite some time. "You like what you see?"

Kensi smiles, taking that as her cue to approach. "I do," she replies softly, her stomach rumbling as she watches him. "Smells delicious."

"I do, don't I?" he quips, and Kensi can't help but roll her eyes. "My cologne always did make you swoon…"

_Kensi_ would tease him, throwing back some retort about how swooning and gagging are not quite the same…unfortunately, she can't be Kensi right now and even if she could, she's pretty sure Deeks saw right through her during a similar conversation on a case not that long ago. Truth is, she _does_ have one of his shirts. Snagged it (accidentally, obviously) when she'd offered to drive him home after his shooting. It had offered her comfort and, though it's been well over a year, she'll still swear that his scent lingers in the fabric.

Speaking of scent, Kensi's nose twitches as she picks up again on the familiar scent of chlorine mixing with his masculine scent. "You already been in the pool again?" she asks, glancing briefly at the clock on the wall. "This early?"

He smiles, dropping the empty skillet carefully into the sink before filling it with water. "Woke up early. Thought I'd get in an early swim before you woke up."

Kensi nods, thinking about the mornings she's arrived at his place with coffee only for him to turn up about ten minutes later, dripping with water, his board in tow. "Yeah, I forgot. You usually surf in the mornings, don't you?"

She's not even thinking as the innocent inquiry slips from her lips; she doesn't realize her mistake until Deeks' gaze locks with hers, the warning clear in his bright blue eyes. It's minor, but it's a slip all the same, and mentally Kensi chides herself. To her, and to Deeks, it was just a simple, quiet question. But to any hidden surveillance, the mere suggestion that Melissa doesn't know Justin's morning routine would throw up numerous red flags.

Before she can attempt to fix it, Deeks is chuckling, shaking his head at her. "You know that, sugar bear," he says with a grin. Playfully he taps the tip of her nose with his spatula, smirking as she wrinkles her nose in response – it's about the cutest thing he's ever seen. "Even though I'm always back in bed with you before you ever even notice I'm gone."

Kensi's lips turn in a convincing pout as she slips back into the role of Melissa. "I notice," she complains petulantly, lazily looping her arms around his middle in an affectionate embrace. "And I don't like it."

Deeks smirks, then drops a gentle kiss into her hair. The scent of her shampoo overwhelms him for but a second and he can't help but close his eyes and breathe her in. She sighs softly, and in that moment it becomes one of Deeks' favorite sounds – so calm, quiet, serene. "I'll try not to do it anymore," he breathes, unsure if he's saying it as Justin or Deeks.

"Good," Kensi says, releasing him as her eyes survey the countertops. "What are you making me?"

He glances sideways at her, lifting a questioning brow. "Who said I was making _you_ anything?"

Melissa seems like the type to give a quiet, girlish giggle, so Kensi does exactly that. "Two plates," she points out. Playfully she reaches out, poking gently at Deeks' stomach. "That'd be an awful lot of food for someone watching their figure."

He smirks. "Baby, you _love_ my body."

She hums appreciatively while struggling to hold back a snort of laughter. "Which is why we don't want to mess it up," she says, flashing him a grin. "Besides, you love me," she adds, using one of his own favorite playful lines on him. "You wouldn't let your wife go hungry."

"My wife _would_ starve to death if she didn't have me," Deeks agrees cheekily.

"Hey, I survived just fine on takeout before I met you."

Deeks laughs. "Yeah. Yeah, you are _so _lucky you found me…"

She wants to elbow him, but instead settles for sniping a piece of bacon from one of the plates. "What else you got for me, kitchen guru?"

"I prefer sexy chef, my love," he says with a wink, his words dripping with what Kensi assumes is supposed to be charm.

"I bet you do."

He just grins and ignores her. "Well there's the bacon. I was going to whip up some eggs too, but we don't have any. Also, got some biscuits in the oven," he says, cocking his head in the direction of the oven. His eyes sparkle as his grin widens, and for the moment, Kensi's struck by just how good he looks when he smiles. She mentally shakes herself as he gestures to the small bowl of fruit on the counter. "And I was just about to fix up some strawberry pancakes for my princess's sweet tooth…"

Kensi's eyes light up – she can't help it, really, and she can tell from the look in Deeks' eyes that he knows she can't. "With powdered sugar?" she asks innocently, a smile on her own lips. That was what he'd made her the morning after the King case; it's something she's found herself craving more than just once since then, but since she'd never planned on spending another night with him, she'd never really expected to have them again.

As if he's reading her mind, Deeks shakes his head, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. "As if I could forget that."

Her stomach rumbles. "Well get started," she commands, tilting her head playfully. "I'm starving." To illustrate her point, she reaches out and deftly plucks a juicy berry from the bowl on the counter. Before Deeks can reprimand her, Kensi's popping it in her mouth, embellishing a small moan at the sweetness.

And Deeks has to glance away from her at that moment because that little moan…it tugs at him. Really tugs at his restraint, his control, his ability to be someone else and ignore the feelings belonging to his _real_ identity. That simple, quiet sound sparks a barrage of images in his mind that wouldn't be at all wrong for Justin's relationship with Melissa, but at the very heart of everything, _would_ be wrong for Deeks' relationship with Kensi, at least at this moment in their rela – partnership. _Partnership._

And yet, if he allowed any of it to happen at all, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he would be, one hundred percent, Marty Deeks. Not Justin. He can't let Justin take it too far…because once Justin goes too far, Marty takes over again.

This isn't a problem he's _ever_ had with a cover before.

He's struggling with it mightily here.

When he lets his eyes drift back to her, there's an impish grin playing at her lips, lips he wants nothing more than to kiss as she lifts another stolen strawberry to her mouth. "Go sit down, you thief," he teases. "There won't be any strawberries left for the pancakes if you don't."

She giggles again and God, that sound…Deeks doesn't know if he can handle it. Clearly thinking she's got the upper hand (and at the moment, maybe she does), Kensi playfully bats her eyelashes at him. "Make me." The challenge clear in her eyes, she holds his gaze as she reaches out quickly for another strawberry.

But Deeks is faster. He's faster, and he's pretty damn sure she's breaking every last one of the ground rules she'd decided to set for them the night before.

And if not, well…he's about to.

His fingers swiftly wrap around her slender wrist before hers even reach the bowl. Quicker than she can even blink, he's got her by the other elbow too, deftly spinning her, ignoring her quiet yelp of protest as he playfully pins her against the refrigerator. She struggles, squirms against him but it's no use because he's got both her wrists securely, holding them over her head. "You asked for it," he breathes, his lips quirked in a slight but very smug smirk.

Kensi's unamused, which amuses Deeks entirely too much. It's all fun and games to her as long as she's getting her way. It's cute, really. Cute, and a bit sexy. It's wild how quickly that playful spark in her eyes can become a dangerous fire.

It's one that's sure to burn him eventually. Deeks knows this without a doubt, especially as she continues to tug at her arms and he refuses to relent. "Let me go," she demands.

To her annoyance, Deeks merely chuckles. "Why? So you can steal the rest of my strawberries? I think not."

She gives him her typical Kensi glare, which only seems to amuse Deeks more. And of course it does, because she can't retaliate as Kensi. That doesn't stop her from making the threat, though. "I really don't think you want my knee where I'm about to shove it," she warns.

"Oh really?" he smirks, and God, oh God does she wish she could be herself for the moment because Deeks doesn't laugh at _Kensi's _threats. Well, not all of them, anyway. If they weren't forced into this situation as Justin and Melissa, she likes to think that he wouldn't dare grin that utterly _maddening_ grin at Kensi. But because she has to be Melissa and he knows that, he's pressing buttons and pushing boundaries, despite the rules they agreed on.

When this assignment is over, oh how she'll make him pay.

For now, though, she's captive, and in more ways than one as he takes her wrists in one hand, freeing his other. His eyes flicker to her lips for just a brief second and even though she's sure she should be stronger than this, she can't stop the way her body reacts to that. Can't stop the way her heart skips a beat, can't stop the way it accelerates to make up for it. Can't stop the chill that consumes her at the picture he paints in her wild imagination, his lips on hers, his hands on her body.

She wants to hate him right now for getting so far under her skin.

But she can't, because she _wants_ him.

He clucks his tongue at her threat, the intensity in his ocean eyes making her feel as if he's seeing right through her, right through to everything she's trying to hide. "I don't think my blushing bride really wants to do that…" he teases, his words a mere whisper.

She feels the heat blossom deep in her belly and it adds a whole new, incredibly suggestive and completely unintentional layer to the retort that slips easily from her lips. "You'd be surprised at what your blushing bride wants to do to you…"

There's a flicker in Deeks' eyes, a flicker of something Kensi can't put a name to. "So my blushing bride is feeling a bit naughty, hmm?" he quips, tracing the pad of his thumb along the length of her jaw. He stops at her chin, tilting her face gently upward and rendering her unable to look away – not that she's able to do that anyway.

She likes to think that, as Kensi, she would absolutely kick him for such a comment. Right now, though, she's not so sure. She's not sure of _anything_ right now save for the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears, the heaviness of the heat in the space between them, the electricity sparking just from the steady touch of his thumb beneath her chin. And then there's the heady realization that, if she tilted her head _just_ right and leaned in just a _tiny_ bit, she could kiss him…

Just the very realization dizzies her until she's left wondering how she's still on her feet.

How such an innocent, playful situation quickly became so heated, so intense…she has no idea.

She knows it's too much, though. It's dangerous, it's fiery, and if she's honest, it's frightening as hell. Kensi Blye who's afraid of nothing is afraid of _this._ And that's the realization that brings his name to her lips, a quiet, breathy whisper that's nowhere near loud enough to be picked up by anything but their own ears. "Deeks…"

He says nothing, and Kensi thinks she damn near whimpers as he begins to move in.

But before their lips can touch, the bell on the oven timer breaks through the haze surrounding them, dissipating it as quickly as it had formed. His touch disappears from her skin in an instant as he releases her, flicking his tongue over his lips. "You're lucky the biscuits are done," he murmurs. He steps back, turning away and quickly donning a pair of oven mitts, and it's only when his back is to her that Kensi lets out a deep breath, one she hadn't been aware she was holding.

She stays where she is as Deeks goes to the oven and pulls out the tray of biscuits, each one a perfect golden brown, fluffy, and mouthwatering, but Kensi barely even registers that. Her thoughts right now, every last one of them, are filled with _him_. She feels the heat in her cheeks, her skin; feels it burning deep inside of her and if she's honest with herself, which she very rarely is when it comes to her partner, she knows that's not from the heat that escapes from the oven.

Setting the biscuits aside to cool, Deeks goes to work on her pancakes.

(She doesn't steal any more strawberries.)

By the time he's got everything piled onto their plates, Kensi's certain she's got everything under control again; as he teases her about her ravenous appetite, she slips back into the banter as easily as he does. That's just them – if they can slip back into that immediately after a firefight, then it's no surprise that they find it again just as easily now.

As she sits across from him at the dining room table enjoying her pancakes (and _oh,_ how she's enjoying them), for some odd reason that completely escapes her, she finds herself playfully nudging his ankle beneath the table with the side of her foot. He catches her eye and grins; it matches the smirk that dances upon her own lips.

It's a silent assurance that they're okay; that whatever had happened moments before was nothing. It had been nothing more than part of their cover. It was just Justin and Melissa.

Deep down, though, they both know that's a lie.

And God, both of them are silently hoping with everything in them that there's no video surveillance in the house, at least in the kitchen, because both of them know they slipped.

In that moment in the kitchen, there was no trace of Justin or Melissa anywhere.

Every bit of it was Kensi and Deeks.

Every last bit.

Less than twenty-four hours into this assignment, they're both realizing that this is going to be harder than either of them had thought.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	3. three

Marty Deeks c_annot_ sit still.

Granted, Kensi's known this for a long time. She's spent many mornings stuck in traffic with him fidgeting in the passenger seat. She's thrown him numerous icy glares from across the bullpen because he drums on the desktop, whether with pens or his fingers. If it's not that, he's tapping his foot; if they're in the boatshed listening in on one of Sam or Callen's interrogations, he's pacing around.

It drives her _insane._

She had _so_ underestimated how much worse it would be to actually _live_ with that.

It's on somewhere near his trillionth trip back and forth between the den and the kitchen that Kensi can't take it anymore – it's making her nervous, this constant motion of his. Driving her utterly up the wall. "Can you _not_ sit down?" she growls. "You've been moving nonstop since breakfast."

Deeks takes it in stride with a grin. "One of us has to keep this place clean and I sure don't see you helping out."

Kensi rolls her eyes. "The place was clean when we got here. We haven't been here _that_ long – there's no reason for you to turn the place upside down."

"Uh-huh. You're forgetting I saw how you lived before we got married, Mel. Your dust bunnies had their own dust bunnies."

"Hilarious."

"You know I'm right."

She rolls her eyes again and attempts to turn back to her early afternoon channel surfing, but no sooner than she retrieves the remote, her partner is calling her from the kitchen. "Hey, Melissa?"

"What?"

"Come in here for a second."

Kensi doesn't move. "Really?"

"Humor me."

She groans, but pulls herself from the couch at his request. After all, she knows if she ignores him, he'll just keep at it. He always does. "What is it?" she sighs, as if he's just interrupted something of very high importance.

Deeks lifts a brow. "That's no way to talk to your gorgeous husband." There's a glint in his eye as he moves toward her, and immediately Kensi puts herself on guard – that glint only ever means one thing. He's up to something.

The suspicion must be apparent in her eyes because he chuckles quietly, shaking his head. "I just want to tell you something."

She's still not buying it. "And you couldn't have yelled it out to me?"

"Actually, no. I needed you in here." A contemplative grin touches his lips, one that has him reaching out and taking Kensi's hands in his own. He tugs at her gently, and despite her suspicion she lets him lead her, lets him turn her slowly until he's got her back to the counter. His hands then go to her hips, and immediately Kensi feels her heartbeat accelerate. The fact that they've shared a couple of days here without any related…_incidents_ has clearly done nothing to blur her memory – the images from a few mornings ago accost her as soon as he touches her, flashing vividly in her mind.

She's still trying to figure out exactly what he's playing at when suddenly and quite effortlessly he's lifting her from her feet and setting her gently down atop the counter. And for that, she's pretty sure she should kick him, but she's still fighting off her surprise at his audacity.

In her head, on the little mental list of notes she's keeping about things they need to discuss when they check in at Ops later this week, there's a little something she quickly moves to the top of that list: _boundary issues_.

For now, though, she just glares at him. "Really, Justin?" she says, crossing her arms. She's been more careful since her first little slip that morning, but sometimes she finds it hard to remember that right now, he's _Justin_, not Deeks. Especially when she's so very used to directing her annoyance at Deeks – and right now, that annoyance is very much directed toward him.

And she's sure he knows it too, because he just gives her that smug grin of his. "Had to make sure I had your full attention," he says, laying his palms over her knees. "Can't have you wandering around not listening while I'm trying to tell you something very, very important."

She smiles sweetly. "Who says I'm listening to you anyway?"

"Please. You hang on every word I say."

Kensi snorts. "Right."

Deeks could continue on from that. He could tease her; he could easily lead her down a path that he's certain would leave her flustered and annoyed – and he sure can't deny how much he loves doing _that_ to her. Instead, though, he relents and decides to share what he's discovered. "You know, I don't really have some crazy obsession with cleaning," he begins, playfully squeezing her knees. "I mean, obviously I do it more than _you_ do, but that's not the point."

"You mean you actually _do_ have a point?"

He ignores her and carries on. "I wasn't going to say anything until I was completely sure, and just getting to that point took most of the last couple of days. But, uh," he pauses, the corners of his lips quirking as he just slightly slides his palms from her knees onto her lower thighs. "We're clear in here."

Kensi blinks slowly, not quite sure that she's hearing him correctly. Then again, it could be that his touch and his proximity to her have her growing just a bit distracted. But just a _tiny_ bit, of course. "What – what exactly does that mean?"

He smirks. "You said it yourself – I've been running around like some kind of cleaning machine, especially in here." He pauses, flicking his tongue over his lips. "At least, that's what _you_ saw. That's what you saw, and that's what any surveillance would have seen." He's abandoned his cover here; once that clicks for her, the rest quickly becomes clear. "I was just…disguising what I was really doing."

"You were looking for bugs," she whispers, and Deeks nods in the affirmative. For a moment, she lets herself bask in the relief this grants her – if they truly _are_ clear in the kitchen, then her little mention of Deeks' surfing habits earlier this week hadn't been picked up by anything.

But as soon as the relief settles in, it's quickly pushed out of the way as she suddenly grows defensive – he didn't _start_ this until after that morning. Kensi's eyes narrow as she asks the question forming in her head. "Is this all because of my – my _slip_ the other morning?" she asks, her voice a whisper despite knowing now that there's nothing in the kitchen to pick that up.

To her mild annoyance, Deeks just grins, amused. Once, just once, he'd love to see the flurry of thoughts that flash through her head at any given time. "Of course not," he says, shaking his head. Glancing down, he playfully draws a spiral atop her thigh with a single fingertip, knowing he's playing with fire at this point. Having told her they're in the clear, there's nothing stopping her from kicking him. Still, he wants to see how far he can push those boundaries – he can't help it. "Not _everything_ I do is because of you, princess," he smirks. "We needed a safe haven, though," he continues. "We only get to check in with the others once a week, and we still don't know what all we're going to find while we're here. Now, if you and me need a safe place to talk about things, well, we've got one."

Looking down, Kensi watches for a moment the motion of his hands on her thighs. "So – so now we only have to act like we're married outside the house, right?"

Deeks smirks. "I said there were no bugs in the kitchen," he clarifies, waiting for her to meet his eyes. She hasn't kicked him or hit him yet, so he throws caution to the wind and ups the ante a bit, boldening his playful exploration. His fingers dip slightly_, just _slightly, around to the inside of her thigh and though his touch is honestly closer to her knee than anywhere farther north, it doesn't stop Kensi's sharp intake of air. She holds his gaze, though, the warning in her eyes just as clear as the obvious challenge within his own. "Doesn't mean there aren't…_other_ ways of keeping eyes on us," he continues. "I mean, there could always be cameras outside looking in. Hell, forget cameras – anybody walking by can see inside."

It's then that he tears his gaze away, allowing his ocean eyes to dart briefly into the small dining nook, taking in the large windows that are similar to what fills the rest of the house. "Your uncle Mark sure does love his sunlight, yeah? Windows like that, well, we can't be _too_ careful."

"Point made," Kensi relents. "So as long as we look the part, we can talk."

Deeks nods. "We shouldn't make it a habit, though. And yeah, we have to be careful. Really careful. We can drop cover for a few minutes, but only in words. Always have to be careful about what we look like to the outside. If anybody _is_ watching us, they can easily toss a baseball into our backyard or something, just to give them an excuse to get close."

With that, Deeks leans in close, ever aware of how Kensi quickly stiffens. They _do_ have to be careful, true; but there's no doubt at all that this is solely for his own benefit (and Kensi's as well, if the tremor he feels from her is any indication), rather than for the benefit of their cover. Ever softly, he brushes his lips along her jaw; one kiss, two, and a third against her smooth, warm skin before his mouth finds her ear, his breath on her skin making goosebumps erupt over her entire body. "So, you see, we still have to put on a good show," he murmurs, the words on his breathy voice delivered right to her ear.

Kensi swallows hard, unable to do much more than offer a stiff nod of agreement. "Right…"

He nuzzles playfully against her, his scruff tickling her skin before he pulls away again, much to her secret displeasure. She struggles to bring herself back to the present, to focus on his next words, but it's ridiculously difficult when her jaw is still tingling with the lingering sensation of his lips. "I thought I'd take care of the study next," he's saying when she's finally able to concentrate again. "From there, well, we'll just see what happens.

He winks playfully, but Kensi doesn't need that to tell her what she already knows from his smirk and the devilish tone in his voice – he doesn't really have any intention of taking this sweep of his to the bedroom. So it seems she'll just have to take matters into her own hands. "I can help," she suggests innocently. "With both of us searching, it should take no time." Pausing there, Kensi gives a coy shrug. "Besides, I'm better at this than you are anyway."

"Can't let you do that, babe," he smirks, his blue eyes twinkling madly. Kensi opens her mouth to protest, but Deeks is quicker. Lifting a hand, he presses two fingers against her lips, playfully – but effectively – silencing her. "Remember your backstopping," he says, grinning at the daggers she glares his way. "Melissa is a trust fund baby. Never had to work a day in her life. And she's kind of a slob. And you can bet that if anybody is watching us, they've done their homework. If we do have eyes on us, don't you think it'd look a little suspicious if you suddenly started cleaning and organizing things? I mean, _Kensi_ doesn't even do that stuff."

She just glares at him, unwilling to admit that he's right, but unable to argue that he's not. Luckily, she doesn't have to. Almost as if reading deep into her thoughts, Deeks' teasing grin fades just a bit, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more serious. Reassuring, even. "Look, Kens, I know you're the one of us with all the super secret NCIS spy training stuff. I know that if you were doing this instead of me, well, you would have been done in the first hour. But I do know what I'm doing, okay? I think you'd be surprised at how many times I've had to do this." He smiles, though this time, Kensi can't ignore that it's just a bit…haunted. There's a story there, something in the past, something perhaps from his undercover days with the LAPD.

She wants to ask, but then again, if he wanted to share, she knows he would. So instead, she lays her palms over his on her thighs, catching his eye before she speaks. "I don't doubt, you know," she admits softly. She gives a shrug; it's supposed to convey nonchalance, but both of them know better. "It's just…"

Deeks stops her, and it's an interruption she's grateful for because she doesn't quite know how to say exactly what it is: a control thing. She trusts him, trusts his judgment…but she knows she'd feel a lot better knowing she had a hand in it. "I know."

Kensi nods, and for a moment, there's just silence, broken only by the quiet sound of his palms sliding against the denim of her jeans. Just before the quiet becomes too much, his voice breaks blessedly through the growing tension, this heated tension that seems to form too easily between them these days. "So uh, I think I'm going to change and head out for a run," Deeks says softly. "I won't be gone long, but in the meantime…"

Unabashedly, he allows his gaze to roam her body and while that's just yet another thing on the long list of things she knows she should kick him for, instead Kensi can't help but let herself enjoy the obvious appreciation in his eyes. She's caught him watching her a few times over the past couple years, after all – this isn't the first time. "I think you should relax some, yeah? Why don't you put on that sexy little bikini of yours and give our nosy neighbors a little show?" he suggests, a playful, devious glimmer in his eyes."

Kensi catches on all too quickly. "Our nosy neighbors? Or…my nosy partner?"

The wink he throws her way starts the sparks flying all over again.

* * *

Nighttime falls quietly and finds a sleepy Kensi sprawled on her stomach on the couch, the only illumination in the cozy den from the large flat-screen tv mounted on the wall. To her partner's dismay (or so he says, anyway – she suspects he secretly enjoys it), in becoming Melissa, Kensi had held on to one of her own guilty pleasures – reality television. It's an addiction, and the more Deeks gripes about it, the less inclined she is to _ever_ give it up.

Speaking of her partner, she'd taken his advice earlier, spending the afternoon lounging luxuriously by the pool. Half expecting him to join her at some point, she'd been surprised by her disappointment that he hadn't. She hadn't seen him again until she'd slipped her cover-up on over her bikini and headed back inside around dinnertime.

It was clear that he'd done more than simply go for a run, but as he'd brought her back her favorite burger and fries combo, complete with an extra large chocolate shake, she'd found it difficult to complain. He'd explained over dinner that Eric had helped him get some cameras placed around the neighborhood, but in addition to that, he'd done what he called "a little _extra_ investigating."

And then he'd produced a large, light pink bakery box filled with glazed doughnut holes. "Owners weren't in," he'd said, grinning as Kensi's eyes widened at the boxful of sugary treats, "but I managed to get some interesting info from the girl behind the counter…"

That box of doughnut holes is open in front of her now as she lounges on the couch. Almost lazily, she pops the glazed treats one by one into her mouth, savoring the sweetness. Her partner is on the floor in front of her, resting his head against the arm of the couch, smirking every time he hears Kensi's fingers rustle through the box. "You gonna eat them all tonight?" he teases quietly, fully expecting the playful smack to the head that his comment earns.

"They're mine. I can eat them all tonight if I want to."

He chuckles. "Your tummy might regret that in the morning." Pausing, he tilts his head thoughtfully for a second. "Never mind – I forgot we were talking about _you_. Your stomach is used to the abuse."

Kensi gives a quiet hum of false sympathy. "You know, until you _insulted_ me, I was thinking about sharing these with you."

"I don't want any."

"You sure?" she teases. "They're _really_ good…"

"Yeah, well, thing is, you'd say that about a _sandal_ if it was covered in a layer of sugar," Deeks quips. "So forgive me if I don't really trust your judgment there."

She shrugs. "Your loss." Popping another into her mouth, she embellishes a quiet moan. "_So _good."

"That's okay," Deeks insists, slowly pulling himself to his feet. Stretching a bit, he feels the slight ache of exhaustion in his muscles. "You keep enjoying your little love affair with sugar and Ryan Seacrest," he smirks, cocking his head toward the screen. "I think I'm gonna head on up to bed."

"Really?" Kensi asks, choosing to ignore his rather un-clever remark. "It's still early though. You're not even going to finish the show with me?"

He offers her a smile. "You'll tell me who goes home," he says with a wink. "You always do…and in _ridiculous_ detail."

"Fine," Kensi relents with a bit of a frown. If she's honest with herself, she can't deny that there's a slight pang of disappointment as her partner makes his way up the stairs. Of course, she _could_ follow him…but instead she sighs softly and decides to finish the rest of the show.

She's fifteen minutes into the crime drama that follows when it finally hits her. Every night they've been here, she and Deeks have had the same argument. And every night, she's claimed victory. She's gotten her way.

However, she can't claim victory if she's not there to take it.

And Deeks realized that long before she did.

Annoyance creeping up within her at letting him get one over on her, Kensi quickly closes up the bakery box and hurriedly shuts off the tv. With that, she stomps her way swiftly up the stairs and to the bedroom, where she's met with the _exact _sight she'd predicted (just not soon enough). Making her way none too quietly over to the nightstand, she turns on the lamp, chasing the darkness out. Sure enough, she sees her partner nestled snugly under the covers on the right side of the bed. _Her_ side of the bed.

It hasn't been that long, so she knows there's no way he's already asleep. So she feels no guilt as she shoves roughly at his shoulder, jarring him. "Move," she growls.

Deeks mumbles something unintelligible, but Kensi's having none of it. "Stop playing around – I _know_ you're not asleep. Now get up."

His mouth twitches – if she'd had any doubts at all, they're gone now. Completely gone. "I'd say somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed, but instead, you're trying to _go_ to bed on the wrong side of the bed. That can't be good for the next day – seems like that's about like going to bed mad."

"I'm not playing here," Kensi says seriously. "This is _my_ side."

His eyes finally open as Kensi sits down on the side of the bed, throwing a demanding glare his way. "Come on," he pleads, resorting to whining. "I haven't slept at all since we've been here. I can't sleep on the left side. I can't. I stare at the ceiling for hours, and then I roll over and stare at the wall for hours."

"So you want me to do that instead of you? Way to make your wife feel loved," she quips sarcastically.

"Actually, I love you so much that I'm willing to share, sugar bear," Deeks says smoothly, moving just the tiniest bit to the left. "If I can't sleep on that side, and you can't sleep on that side either, then neither of us should sleep on that side." Pushing back the covers, he reaches for Kensi's hand; she tugs it abruptly out of his reach. "Makes perfect sense that we'd share this side, babe. I'm totally okay with that."

"Yeah." Kensi scoffs. "I bet you are."

"Come on, Melissa," he persists, and that time, he's the one who nearly slips. He catches himself, reminding himself of their cover. She's Melissa, not Kensi. And yet, she's _completely_ Kensi, and it's _Kensi_ that he wants. Not Melissa. "You only stay over there until you're asleep, you know."

"What?"

"Don't play innocent. Once you're asleep, you are _all_ over this bed. Sideways, diagonally, every which way…"

Kensi scoffs again. "You're ridiculous. If I moved, I would wake up. Trust me. I'd know."

"So then, how come you always roll over into my arms during the night?" Kensi opens her mouth to protest, but Deeks beats her there. "And don't you dare say you don't, because you _do_. I'm awake all night. I _know_ these things."

Kensi rolls her eyes, choosing not to chase that train of thought any further. "Come on. Just move, okay? I'm tired. And I'm tired of this argument."

He's not moving, not that easily – she should know better than that, he thinks. "You really want this side?" he teases, his eyes sparkling devilishly. "I'll battle you for it."

For a moment, Kensi just stares at him – sometimes her partner can be so childish. "You'll _battle_ me?" she repeats, watching his fingers curl in the fabric of his pillowcase. "What are you, ten?"

"What are _you_, scared?"

"Scared of what, hurting you?" she shoots back. "Because that's what's most likely to happen."

"Fine." He smirks. "If you're not willing to settle this with a pillowfight like mature adults, well, I guess I'll have to resort to other measures."

She doesn't even have time to inquire about those other measures before he's sitting up and wrapping his arms around her waist. She protests loudly, fighting him as he'd expected she would, but Deeks doesn't relent until he's dropping her on the left side of the bed. She grasps at him, but he's faster; he deftly avoids her fists and elbows and knees and everything else she tries to throw at him – he's reading her next moves about two seconds before she makes them. Still, she struggles, and struggles _hard_.

He'd caught her off guard in the beginning, though, and that had set the tone for the entire fight. With a knowing smirk on his lips the entire time, Deeks uses her struggling, her surprise, and his size to his advantage, and within minutes, he's got a flustered, flushed, and deliciously tousled Kensi pinned on her back as he hovers above her. Holding her wrists securely on either side of her head, Deeks claims his victory – she might always beat him when they spar in the gym, but he's bested her here…and really, this is the one that matters.

Ignoring her protests of just how unfair this is, he leans in close, waiting for her to meet his gaze head on before he ever opens his mouth. "So do I win?" he breathes.

The heat of his breath on her face is what shifts this moment from an innocent, playful sparring match over something so trivial as the preferred side of the bed…to something much bigger, something much heavier. Something _fiery._ As she stops fighting him, she realizes just how very reminiscent this is of that moment in the kitchen a few mornings ago…but then again, compared to this, that was innocent. The current setting, the sexual undertones…all of that hits Kensi _hard_ in the chest now, stealing her breath and leaving her dizzied, struggling for air, struggling to stay afloat and not drown in the depth of his ocean eyes as they twinkle down at her, calm as the smoothest sea, yet more dangerous than the most turbulent waters of a hurricane.

If he's affected at all, he doesn't show it and Kensi silently curses him for that, because she's sure every little feeling and every little spark that's shooting through her body right now is written all over her face. She's sure she's an open book to him right now because _damn it,_ she's too stunned to rein herself in. "Fine," she chokes out. Lifting her palms to his biceps, she tries to shove him off of her, but right now, he's not moving an inch and Kensi utterly _hates_ herself for almost _not_ wanting him to move. How _easy_ it would be to let her hands drift to his scruffy cheeks and pull him down to her, bringing their lips together. How easy it would be to just let him kiss her, to let his hands wander over her skin, his touch stoking the fire within. And oh, how easy it would be to close her eyes and forget the walls, the boundaries, all the reasons why this _can't_ happen.

How easy it could be just to let herself _want_ him…to let herself _have_ him.

How easy, indeed.

Deeks never makes anything easy, though. Not even surrender. "Say it," he presses with a grin. "I want to hear you say I win."

The echo of her own heartbeat deafens her, leaving her unable to hear her own voice. "Fine," she repeats, and this time, just this once, she's ready to relent because suddenly, this is just too much. She can't bear it. It's too much and he's too close and she can't breathe anything but _him_ and it's _killing_ her. And yet, at the same time, it feels _oh_ so good. "You – you win, okay?" she mutters, her words scratching at her suddenly dry mouth. "Now can you – can you just get off of me?"

She shoves at him again to emphasize her demand, but he's not moving. If anything, his grin only widens and Kensi _knows_ he sees right through her. "You sure you don't want me to stay right where I am?" he teases, and almost as if he knows just how it makes her stomach twist, his eyes dart quickly to her lips. It's the final nail in the coffin, truly, because now if she doesn't do something, _anything_, she knows exactly what will happen. The fire in her belly and the flutter in her chest, the sparks and shivers coursing simultaneously through her veins…she's in a haze now and if she doesn't get him off of her…she's going to kiss him. She's going to kiss him and she won't be able to stop herself.

And she can't – that can't – _they_ can't…

Biting the inside of her cheek for some semblance of reality to grasp hold of, she bites out his name, _his_ name, and a sharp, almost desperate plea.

"Deeks, _please_."

It's not a word she uses often and especially not with her partner. It's a weakness, she thinks. It's admitting that she _needs_ something from him, and that's not something she's often okay with. The first time she'd uttered it, it'd taken her quite some time to come to terms with it – both the plea and the situation, a roomful of lasers that she hadn't been able to escape on her own. The second time, it'd been easier, but only because she could rationalize that he wasn't directly aiding _her_, but instead keeping her mother safe.

Now, though…well, she doesn't even allow herself to think about it. She won't.

It breaks through his playful shell though, and that's what she needs. His smile fades and he releases her wrists, immediately rolling to the side. "Kens?"

She doesn't answer as she sits up. She can't. She can barely keep herself from shaking as she stands from the bed, avoiding his eyes completely as she searches and searches, her thoughts finally alighting upon something that should offer her both space and time. "I – I'm going to hop in the shower," she says quietly.

She doesn't say anything like _this is why we set those ground rules. _

She doesn't _have_ to say it. Deeks hears it loud and clear. "Kensi," he says, raking a hand through his hair. "I was just…"

He doesn't even get to finish before she's shutting herself in the bathroom and turning on the water, stepping in as steam begins to fill the bathroom.

She stays in until the water runs cold, until she's shivering beneath the icy spray, until she's able to condense the hazy, jumbled mess in her head into something a little more concise, but no less alarming.

It's not that he's breaking every one of their boundaries.

It's that she's finding that she _likes_ it.

Too much.

She can't have these feelings for her partner.

When finally she steps quietly back into the bedroom, the lights are out and for a moment, she thinks he's gone. But then by the glow of the soft moonlight filtering in through the window, she sees him. He's under the covers once more, but despite her earlier acquiescence, he's retreated back to the dreaded left side of the bed. The tiniest of smiles tugs at her lips, but it's dwarfed by the pang of guilt that hits her square in the chest.

Silently she slips in beside him, and for a moment, she holds her breath and waits...but for what, she's uncertain. Part of her wants to reach for him...the rest of her wants _him_ to reach for _her_. And both halves add up to a whole that feels somehow less than complete. Swallowing hard, Kensi draws her tongue over her lips, and then ever quietly, she whispers into the space between them, her voice barely loud enough to reach his ears at all. "Hey...you awake?"

For a moment, he's quiet, and Kensi's about to close her eyes and attempt to find sleep herself when she finally hears his soft reply. "Yeah."

She tugs her lower lip between her teeth, nibbling thoughtfully at it as she contemplates what, if anything, she should say to him. There has to be something, she thinks. In the end, she settles for the only words that leap to her mind. "I'm sorry."

Slowly her partner shifts, rolling over until he's facing her, and even in the darkness Kensi can see his eyes studying her, trying to read her. "It's okay," he breathes, offering her a slight smile.

"I just…I don't…"

Deeks cuts her off, much to her relief because she's certain no words that reach her lips right now would be quite the right ones. "You don't have to say anything," he whispers, hesitating for a moment before dropping his voice even further and punctuating his words with a much-welcomed murmur of her nickname. "Kens."

"This is harder than it should be." The words are out in the open before she even realizes she's saying them.

He either reads her confession incorrectly or chooses to apply a different meaning to it (and in all honesty, Kensi thinks it's probably the latter). Were it anything else, she might twist his arm for twisting her words but right now, she doesn't want him to hear exactly what she means. She doesn't want to face what she means herself. "This is your first long-term cover," he murmurs, so quietly that Kensi has to strain her ears to hear. "It gets easier."

She nods, then chooses to leave it at that. Holding his eyes, she brings a small smile to her lips, then quietly forces herself to acknowledge in some way what had just happened between them – if for no other reason than to convey to him that they're okay. They're still them. They're Kensi and Deeks. "You surrendered," she says softly, watching a smile tug at his lips – his grins and his smirks send molten heat right to the pit of her stomach, but his genuine smiles, no matter how small…those are what she can't get enough of. "After you won, I mean. You surrendered."

He just shrugs. "I did."

"I thought you couldn't sleep over there."

"I can't."

There's a lot more said in those two small words than what's on the surface. Letting him know she hears it, Kensi reaches out a cautious hand, seeking out her partner's hand beneath the covers. It's a hidden touch, she rationalizes, under the covers. That, somehow, makes it okay. Her eyes locked with his, she lets her touch linger just long enough to squeeze his hand as she whispers a quiet _goodnight_, one that's as much of a _thank you_ as it is a wish for sweet dreams.

When Kensi wakes the next morning, they're both on the right side of the bed, and she's in his arms.

And though they won't admit it aloud, it's the best night's sleep either of them has had in a long time.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	4. four

_**A/N:** Your reviews continue to make me smile. Thanks so very much! And apologies for the delay on chapter four. :)_

_Also - to anyone else who can't seem to login, try clearing cookies or simply switch browsers like I did. I drove myself batty trying to get this chapter up tonight. ;)_

* * *

He's out of the car before she even has a chance to undo her seatbelt.

At first, Kensi's a bit puzzled. But then Deeks is on her side, opening her door for her with a grin at his lips and a sparkle in his eyes. "My lady," he says, punctuating his attempt at chivalry with a playful bow.

Kensi somehow manages to channel her snort of laughter into a very Melissa-like giggle. Melissa, she knows, would be charmed. But Kensi…well, she's just amused because Deeks, while admittedly charming at times, is usually the one teasing that _she_ should open doors for _him_. Sliding gracefully out of the car, Kensi bats her eyelashes at her partner, gently trailing a hand along his chest for good measure. "Thanks, babe."

Deeks grins as he closes the door for her. "Just proving yet again that chivalry _isn't_ dead, honeybee."

Internally, Kensi cringes. She keeps thinking that eventually, _eventually_, he _has_ to run out of affectionate nicknames for her. But then he still always manages to pull out one he's yet to use…and somehow, Kensi just knows that the end of this assignment won't mean the end of them.

Of course, at least then she can punch him for it.

Not that it'll make any difference. In fact, it'll probably just make him do it _more_. Knowing this, Kensi just sighs and plays along with him, counting down the minutes until they're finally allowed to break cover.

It's the end of their first week as Justin and Melissa, which means they have a scheduled check-in back at Ops to document their findings and plan accordingly for the next several days. Because they quite obviously can't jump in the car and simply drive to the mission without risking their cover, it's been disguised as a weekend trip to the mall. Given Kensi's backstopping and her cover's shopping habits, this easily buys them a number of hours, but with a movie added in, their entire Saturday afternoon is spoken for.

So there's no rush at all, Deeks thinks quite happily, taking Kensi's hand as they make their way into the mall.

He's thinking differently once he's lugging around two bags full of what he's certain are the heaviest shoes his partner could find in the entire mall. He's certain Kensi will never wear any of them but that hadn't stopped her from making good use of the credit available on the card Hetty had provided for Justin. "Have to make it believable, after all" Kensi had whispered sweetly into his ear before pressing a playful kiss to his scruffy cheek.

Deeks can't deny the truth in her statement, but that doesn't mean he can't play along too. "We should get you the rest of the outfit to go with those stilettos," he breathes, pressing his luck by sliding the fingers of his free hand just beneath the hem of her top. To his delight, Kensi's unable to fight back a shiver at the feel of his fingertips on her skin. He doesn't go any further than that – they are, after all, in public, but Deeks doesn't let that stop him from finishing his quiet suggestion. "Victoria's Secret is right around the corner. I can see you now – those heels, wearing something lacy and oh so barely there…"

The color that rises in Kensi's cheeks isn't from the words themselves, but instead from the low, gravelly whisper upon which they reach her ears. They paint an image in her mind that she's not at all immune to – she sees him, his eyes a deep, hungry cobalt as they rake over her body, the depth of his appreciation radiating from them.

She pulls herself together quickly though. Reaching for his hand again, Kensi not-so-gently digs her nails discreetly into his palm to make her point. At her partner's hiss of pain, she can't help but smirk. Really, he should _know_ better by now. "Mm, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Despite the momentary sting and the undeniable glare of warning in her dark eyes, he continues. After all, there's really not much else she can do to him without compromising their cover. Leaning in, he brushes his lips against her temple as he murmurs a low, seductive rumble of a promise that goes right to the pit of Kensi's stomach. "You know I'd make it worth _your_ while too…"

He expects it completely when her nails pierce his palm for a second time.

For a while after that, both of them play nice. To anyone else in the mall, they're the picture of bliss. A young, perfectly happy couple without a care in the world. Melissa's the young bride who is completely smitten with her husband's charm, and Justin is the husband who adores her so much that he can deny her nothing. No one who glances their way suspects that their smiles and the affection and the collection of shopping bags accumulating in his hands are all merely for show. And, if they're perfectly honest with themselves, after a short while, neither of _them_ are sure just how much of it is only part of their cover. It all feels far too…_natural_ for that.

It's when they arrive in the food court that Kensi snakes her arm slowly around him, leaning into his muscular body with a smile. And it's another moment when the boundary between Kensi and Melissa becomes blurred almost into nothing, because while this is most definitely not something Kensi would ever do, she can't deny how much she, as _Kensi_ rather than Melissa, enjoys it.

The concept of boundaries in bed has been completely abolished between them. Well, not _completely_, of course, but enough so that those are the memories that filter into her mind now as she feels his body against hers. Kensi knows what it's like to face one sleepless night after another and so, for now at least, she's given up the argument over which side of the bed they each can have.

She tells herself that has absolutely nothing to do with the outcome of that very argument just a few nights ago, but that instead, it has everything to do with her dislike of a cranky, sleep-deprived partner.

(She ignores the voice in the back of her head, the one that speaks to her rather annoyingly in Deeks' undeniable surfer drawl, the one that tells her in no uncertain terms that that is an absolute _lie_.)

In reality, Kensi finds that she's come to like the feel of his body against hers, whether while walking as she guides him off their course toward the mall's pretzel shop, or whether she's waking up with him, feeling his body move against hers as he breathes peacefully, still locked within the trenches of sleep. And really, _that's_ the reason why she's stopped fighting with him – she's secretly enjoyed waking up in the warmth of his arms the past few mornings, this one included.

Identical smiles grace both their lips – hers, as the warmth of those memories floods her, and his, as he realizes where she's leading him. He teases her about it endlessly, but Kensi's sweet tooth is one of the things that he adores about his partner. And even though she's guiding him gently to the pretzel shop rather than the ice cream shop or the candy shop, which he's certain both have a variety of sweeter choices to pick from, he doesn't try to dissuade her.

Kensi knows what she wants, and moments later, she's tearing off a piece of her soft, cinnamon-sugar pretzel and popping it into her mouth, sighing quietly in delight. "Delicious. I can't believe you didn't get one."

Deeks just shrugs. "Not hungry," he replies simply. "Besides, I'll have popcorn during the movie."

He won't, because that's the part of this excursion that is _entirely_ part of their cover. There's a back entrance to the theater, an emergency exit. With some assistance from Eric, the alarm on that door will be deactivated long enough for the two of them to slip out and meet Sam in the Challenger. And then, they're allowed to break cover until Sam brings them back.

And for those few hours in between, he gets to worry about Kensi unleashing everything she's been forced to hold back for the sake of their cover.

He's certain he'll have bruises by the time they return to Justin and Melissa, he thinks with a smirk.

Kensi doesn't notice that particular smirk; reminded of the movie, she glances down at her watch, then quite sneakily slips the bag containing the rest of her pretzel into her oversized purse – to anyone watching, it's as simple as someone attempting to sneak outside food into the movies and doesn't mean anything else. Then, she glances at him and gently nudges him in the side with her elbow. "Well, come on, then," she says with a grin. "It starts in about twenty minutes."

Maybe it's the grin or the playful spark in her eyes, or maybe it's something else entirely, but Deeks isn't really sure what has him doing what he does next. As Kensi starts to move away, he catches her by the elbow and in that moment, he's not really sure whose headspace he's in; he's not sure if his actions belong to Justin, Melissa's husband, or if they belong to Marty Deeks, the man whose attraction to his partner refuses to be silenced.

Either way, though, he doesn't exactly give himself time to think about it. Right there in the middle of the food court, he lays a palm on her cheek and plants a quick but undeniable kiss upon his partner's lips. She tastes of cinnamon and sugar and something that Deeks can place as nothing but uniquely _Kensi_, and it's right then, right there with one quick, fleeting kiss to her soft lips that he knows he's addicted; knows he _wants_ her.

He doesn't allow himself to have that, but he doesn't immediately pull away either. Instead, he touches his forehead to hers for but a moment, his breath mingling softly with hers in the minute space between them.

Forget the playful yet charged moments in the kitchen and the bedroom, moments he'd dared to play with the electric attraction between them, moments he'd intended to stun her with but had ended up getting shocked himself. Forget the moments of quiet conversation disguised as Justin and Melissa that had uncovered much deeper intricacies in their own real partnership, their relationship. Suddenly, all of that seems almost insignificant.

Because Deeks knows that if anything has changed the game, it's this. This kiss. This simple, gentle, almost innocent kiss that _should_ mean nothing; this kiss that _should_ have been just a natural part of their cover.

As confident as he'd been in the seconds right before, Deeks can't just play this move off as a part of their cover. Justin may have initiated it; playing the role of Justin might have made it okay. But there's no denying that it's Deeks that comes away from it. The feelings rushing through him now…they _all_ belong to Marty Deeks.

"What – what was that for?" Kensi asks quietly, frowning almost imperceptibly at the chill that rushes in as his hand falls from her cheek. Instinctively, she flicks her tongue over her lips, tasting him and wanting what she's not allowed to have – more. _Him_. He's not moving so she's the one who takes a step back, just enough to put some space between them and give her a chance to try to clear her head, to mentally shake away the electricity sparked by just a simple kiss.

Deeks grins, but he's not quite able to fully conceal the look in his eyes, one that sends a shiver diving down the length of Kensi's spine. It's a dangerous look, one that Kensi thinks should inspire caution because this line they've accidentally crossed leads down a slippery path, one she's not sure either of them are ready to tumble down. Instead, though, it _thrills_ her. It thrills her because that look in his dark, ocean eyes conveys with complete clarity that, while he'd had everything under control the moment he'd moved in, he'd surrendered that control the moment his lips had touched hers. He'd felt it too.

It takes him a moment longer than usual to slip back into his cover, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Kensi. Once he does, though, it's as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired at all between them. Abandoning the casual handhold they'd adopted as they walked through the mall, instead Deeks now drapes an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into him as they begin to walk again, their destination the theater at the end of the mall. "Do I need a reason to kiss my beautiful wife?" he asks, charm dripping from every word.

Watching the scene unfold on his laptop screen from the Challenger, Sam can't help but smirk. "Oh, she is going to _kill_ him," he says, the magnitude of his amusement clear in his voice. The feed from the cameras inside the mall doesn't offer him any sound, but he's sure he can piece together their conversation in the aftermath – he's listened to his teammates bicker back and forth in the bullpen plenty of times.

"You think so, big guy?"

Sam's partner's voice crackles in his earpiece, and he chuckles. "G. It's _Kensi_. And Deeks…well, you're seeing what I'm seeing. He's milking this for all he's worth. He doesn't stand a chance – I may not even get him back to Ops alive," he quips.

Callen smirks. "You're bigger than Kensi," he points out. "You can hold her back."

"I may be bigger, but she's scarier." He chuckles. "Besides, what makes you think I'd stop her?"

"Oh come on," Callen teases. "You know you'd miss Deeks."

Sam snorts. At that moment, Kensi and Deeks emerge from the theater's back entrance, so Sam closes his laptop and starts the engine. "I guess we're about to find out how much."

* * *

Despite Sam's assurance of Deeks' possible mortality, their first check-in is uneventful. Both of them revert easily to their true identities, though Callen suspects on some level that neither Kensi nor Deeks had truly left them behind at all. He keeps his mouth shut and simply observes, though – they're both skilled operators, he knows. He's watched Kensi develop her skills on his team; he knows Deeks has years of undercover experience. So Callen doesn't doubt either of them. And he doesn't worry about them slipping as they leave the mission and prepare to glide back into their covers.

It's not long before Deeks is pulling into the driveway of their temporary home. But rather than cut off the engine and get out, he grins at Kensi and tells her to go ahead.

She frowns at him as she undoes her seatbelt. "You're not coming?" she asks, confusion furrowing her brow.

Deeks shrugs. "I thought I'd just drop you off and go pick up some dinner." Kensi opens her mouth to protest, but Deeks just shakes his head, cutting her off. "Thought I'd surprise you."

That brings a smile to Kensi's lips – if there's anything Melissa loves, it's her doting husband and his surprises, and Kensi plays that well. "I like surprises," she coos, playfully batting her eyelashes.

Deeks just snickers. "Yeah, I know." It's a reply that could be for either Kensi or Melissa, and he doesn't spend time trying to decide which.

Satisfied, Kensi grabs her bags and slips out of the car. Before she closes the door though, she offers her partner a smile and a playful wink. "Get me something sweet, babe," she requests.

Something sweet. _God_. Deeks swallows hard. He still hasn't recovered from their moment in the food court hours earlier, and just the thought of _something sweet _touching her lips has him reflexively licking his own, disappointed to find that the taste of her has long since faded.

He manages to nod and promise that he will, and then he's on his way. True to his word, he does pick up dinner. But the time away is more than just that. He drives around for about an hour; if she asks, he'll say he hadn't been completely sure what to get them. In reality, though, he'd needed just that little patch of time away from her – away from _her_, from her voice, her smile, her scent…everything.

He needs the time to try and pull himself together, because at the moment, she's killing him. _Killing_ him.

And as he thinks back to their very first night here, the morning that followed, and nearly every moment they've spent together, there's no denying that this is a game he started. It's his game – pushing her buttons, testing the water, seeing just how far he can tiptoe over that line between them.

He'd _expected _to fluster her.

He just hadn't realized how flustered _she_ could have him.

He shouldn't be too surprised, though. Deeks always did have a habit of getting in too far over his head.

When he's satisfied that he's managed to sort himself out, Deeks finally picks up some takeout (remembering, as promised, to add in something sweet for Kensi too) and makes his way home.

When he steps inside, he's greeted immediately by the fresh scent of laundry in the air. He sniffs the air a few times as he makes his way to the kitchen, certain that his mind his playing tricks on him – they don't have a maid, after all, and he's certain that Kensi hasn't the slightest idea how to do laundry. "Melissa?" he calls out, gingerly setting the bags of takeout down on the counter and tossing his keys down beside them. "Mel!"

"In the laundry room!" she calls back.

Deeks shakes his head, still not quite believing what he's hearing. Confused, he makes his way toward the laundry room, the fresh scent of clean linens growing heavier in the air with every step. "Since when do you do –"

That's an inquiry Deeks never finishes because as he steps into the laundry room, the sight that greets his eyes just about stops his heart dead. For the moment, her back is to him, which is good because he's certain he needs every second of that minute to pick his jaw back up from the ground.

It's not that he's astounded to see his generally messy, disorganized partner doing laundry – well, he _is_, but it's not that simple fact that has his words turning to mush before they ever reach his lips.

Kensi's wearing one of his shirts, a simple, white button-down that hits her just above mid-thigh and Deeks swears right then and there that he's _never_ witnessed anything sexier in his entire life. It's an image straight out of his most secret dreams and recalling that does absolutely _nothing_ to restart his mind because in his dreams, she's usually tousled and flushed as she wears his shirt, one that she's not often wearing for much longer.

As she starts the dryer, she finally glances his way. "Hey, babe! I wondered when you'd be back!" Oddly cheerful, Kensi flashes him a brilliant grin, one that's just the cherry on top of an already perfect image, one Deeks is absolutely certain he'll never scrape out of his mind.

"Uh, yeah," he stammers, blinking slowly. "I got into town and decided I wasn't quite sure what I wanted to get for dinner. What – what are you…"

His voice abandons him then, leaving him staring and gesturing and just hoping the rest of his question somehow reaches her.

She frowns convincingly and quite suddenly, _she's_ the one with the best grasp on her cover. Deeks is struggling and he's sure it's written all over his face, but Kensi pretends not to notice that and plays her part flawlessly. "I dropped a glass of soda on the counter," she explains, rolling her eyes at herself. "It splattered everywhere and I knew if I didn't do something fast, I'd never get the stain out of my shirt." She shrugs. "I figured I'd go ahead and kill two birds with one stone and take care of the rest of the laundry along with it."

She's _nothing_ but calm and collected and it's driving Deeks crazy. _He's_ supposed to be the one with the upper hand when it comes to these games of theirs; he's supposed to be the one in control. "So – so you put on my shirt to do the laundry?"

Kensi laughs. "Well, would you rather I did it naked?"

_God_. Deeks can't – _can't_ – stop that very vision from creeping into his imagination. She's playing coy, but there's no mistaking the devilish flicker in her dark eyes. "I – I never said _that_," he forces out. Pausing, he swallows hard, but it doesn't help him find his voice at all. Every last word is a mighty struggle when all he wants to do is push his delectably gorgeous partner against the nearest wall and have his way with her.

His imagination is on overdrive now, filling his head with visions of him pushing the fabric from her shoulders, her clinging to him as he lifts her from the ground, her nails digging into his shoulders and the hungry, desperate clash of their mouths. That's nothing, though, compared to the whimpers, the soft moans, breathless gasps of his name that he's certain he can draw from her lips…oh, he's in trouble here.

It's a losing battle, but still the calm, logical part of his brain fights. Mentally, he tries desperately to pull himself together, reminding himself that he's in imminent danger of blowing their cover right now if there's any type of surveillance in the laundry room. He tries to tell himself that as her husband, Justin has likely seen Melissa in his shirt plenty of times. But that truth backfires badly on Deeks though, because Justin has likely seen Melissa in _other_ things as well. Things like skimpy, lacy lingerie. Tiny string bikinis. Nothing but a towel as she emerges freshly-showered from the bathroom.

His boxers.

_That_ image has him discreetly holding to the doorframe just to stay on his feet.

And it's the realization that follows that nearly has him crashing to the floor anyway: She's _not_ wearing his boxers. Maybe she's not wearing _anything_ else.

She _wouldn't._

But that diabolical voice in his head argues with him, reminds him that she absolutely _would_ do that.

_Don't play with fire if you're not ready to get burned too. _

Deeks shakes his head, struggling to clear the haze in his brain. It doesn't really work, though, not that he's surprised by that. "I just – you packed as if we were going to be here for a year," he manages to choke out, all too aware of the tiny tremor in his voice. "You brought ten times what I brought. You could have changed into a million different things…but instead you decided to steal one of my shirts?"

"Oh, I didn't think you would mind, Justin." Her brow furrows in faux confusion and it's just about the cutest thing he's ever seen. His mouth goes utterly dry as she lifts her hands to the center of her chest. "You want it back?" she asks innocently, and then her fingers are slowly teasing the top button from its loop. One button becomes two, and two becomes three as her eyes shift from innocent to daring – Kensi knows _exactly _where she's got him. She's in charge and unless he gives her a reason to stop, she'll do it.

_Payback, babe_, she thinks with a devious grin. If he thinks he can tease her, taunt her, even _kiss_ her without any expecting any retribution, well, he's got another thing coming.

And having Marty Deeks who never shuts up just utterly speechless in front of her…well, that's just delicious, she thinks.

She's quiet, watching him with glee as he struggles to find his voice again. "I – I didn't say _that_," he answers finally.

His blue eyes roam the length of her body, his gaze lingering at the skin uncovered by the buttons she's freed, as well as where the hem of his shirt hits her thighs. It's almost enough to make her continue – right now, the power she feels is immeasurable. Kensi's incredibly confident in her appearance; she knows she can turn heads but right now, the way he's looking at her, she feels sexier than she's felt in a long time. There's a part of her that would love to surrender to that, to _him. _A deep shiver runs through her body at such thoughts – if he can make her feel this just by _looking _at her…

She stops that train of thought dead – Deeks is her _partner_. That's not something she should be thinking about and really, this whole scenario is a step too far but after everything else, when the idea had planted itself in her mind, it had been just too good to pass up. So for the moment, she just nods and forces any…more _daring_ thoughts away. "Good," she purrs. Tugging her lower lip between her teeth for a brief moment, she contemplates her partner in front of her, allowing herself to quietly celebrate this victory. Two can play at this game and while she'd had a slow start, she's certain Deeks realizes now that she has no intention of letting him win every round.

If he wants to play, then there's no reason why she can't play too.

No reason why she can't counter his supposed charm with her own inner seductress.

She makes her way toward him (noting with glee the way he swallows hard), making absolutely no effort to redo her buttons. "I think I want to keep it anyway," she teases, laying a gentle palm on his chest.

"You want to – to keep my shirt?"

"It's comfy," Kensi reasons, a grin playing at her lips as she remembers a conversation they'd had weeks ago, during a different case. He hadn't had any problems with the idea of her having one of his shirts _then_. Her dark eyes flicker playfully as she does the same thing she'd done that day – she reaches up with one hand and brushes her fingers through her hair before pulling the loose, slightly wavy locks over her left shoulder. One look into her partner's eyes reveals that Kensi's not the only one remembering that very day, that very conversation.

And that's when she delivers the finishing touch. "It smells like you," she breathes. "I like that…"

Deeks nearly chokes on his words. "Do – do you, now?"

Mentally, he kicks himself – he's usually so much smoother than this. If this were just another pretty girl in a bar, he likes to think he might have her charmed into his arms by now, if not his bed. But she's _not_ just another girl; she's never been just another girl. This is Kensi, his partner, his best friend, his…his…

He's not really sure what else she is; he's not sure exactly what this _thing_ they have is either. But he's sure of one thing – it's _explosive. _It's explosive, it's electric, and it can only simmer for so long before it detonates and takes them both down.

It's got to be awfully close to that point now, he thinks. Mere millimeters in front of him, Kensi closes her eyes and embellishes a low moan. And oh, the things that low moan does to Deeks. His fingertips itch to touch her, to glide beneath the white button-down of his that looks _oh_ so good on her to find warm, smooth skin underneath. And oh _God_, he's back to the question of whether or not she's wearing anything underneath…

Oh yeah. He may usually be two steps ahead of her, but right now, Kensi's got the definite lead. There's no question about that at all.

"I do," she murmurs, her voice no higher than a quiet, intimate whisper. "I _love_ having you all around me…"

And then, one hand still on his chest, Kensi rises to her tiptoes and leans in, dropping a slow, lingering kiss to his scruffy jaw, just beneath his ear. Deeks' breath hitches and with her so close to him, there's no way for him to conceal that.

That little victory is enough for Kensi. For now, anyway. With a triumphant smile playing upon her lips, she pulls away from him, gently patting his chest. "Well, come on, Justin," she says as if nothing had happened at all. "I want to eat."

With that, Kensi struts out of the laundry room and leaves him standing there, still stunned into speechlessness.

In that moment, one fact is clear to the both of them: Deeks might have taken the early lead, but she's indisputably the victor of this round.

And that, Kensi thinks as she eagerly tears into the takeout he'd left in the kitchen, feels pretty damn good.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	5. five

_**A/N:** Many, many thanks to Shawn for helping straighten this chapter out, & also to Angèle and Effie for support and awesomeness and the much needed slaps to the head. Appreciated. :) _

_And to all of you, my continued thanks. Your amazing thoughts mean the world & every one of them is super, super appreciated. :)_

_Also, those of you who have been asking, there's still around 5-6 chapters to go. We're not quite done yet. ;)_

* * *

Kensi can't sleep.

The bedroom is cloaked in darkness, not even the slightest illumination from the moon filters in through the windows tonight. Shortly after dinner, heavy clouds had rolled in, obscuring first the sun and later the moon, though other than a few distant rumbles of thunder and a noticeable increase in humidity, they seem to be mostly harmless.

The extra darkness had eased her partner quickly into sleep tonight and for that, Kensi can't help but feel just a bit more than a little envious. He doesn't seem to be at all plagued with the same racing thoughts that she can't get rid of. So while she lays on her back staring at the ceiling, he's the picture of sheer comfort beside of her as he dreams.

They're tangled together, though through no action of hers. Deeks insists he can't sleep unless he sleeps on the right side, but at this point, Kensi isn't sure that really matters at all – she's convinced she could curl herself up at the foot of the bed and he'd _still_ gravitate into her space. He's clingy in sleep, a complete cuddler.

And right now, he's curled right up against her, an arm draped lazily across her stomach, his face nestled loosely in the crook of her neck. She feels his every breath against her skin; when he moves, even just slightly, she feels the tickle of his scruff and perhaps _that_ has something to do with why she can't sleep, because every time she drifts anywhere close to some odd state resembling drowsiness, she's jolted out of it by _that_. It's almost like a spark against her skin, and _damn it_ if she doesn't like it a little more than she should.

She consoles herself a bit, convincing herself that it's obviously all his fault. Every now and then, she throws an elbow into his side just for spite, but that doesn't faze him in the slightest. If anything, it merely makes him squirm closer.

And that…well, it's really not helping _anything_.

Closing her eyes, Kensi sighs softly as she allows herself to revisit the events of the evening – those events are the _real_ reason she can't seem to relax and find sleep. It hadn't been until she'd slipped his shirt from her shoulders that the full gravity of what she'd done had crashed into her. There's really no other way to put it – she'd broken her own ground rules. She'd been the one to shatter those self-imposed boundaries this time, not him.

And truly, she'd taken it a step too far. Possibly several.

Maybe she could have written it off as merely a bit of fun if it had been a spur of the moment thing. But it _hadn't_. She _hadn't _spilled anything on her shirt; hadn't simply decided to do a bit of laundry while he was gone. And she certainly hadn't carelessly snatched his shirt off the floor and chosen to innocently wear it whilst doing the laundry.

No. There'd been _nothing_ innocent about it.

From the moment he'd driven away to pick up dinner, Kensi had set her mind in motion. There had to be something, some way to get back at him, some way to even up the score. Because, like it or not, it'd been clear that she was losing that battle. From the first morning in the kitchen, to the playful yet heated battle they'd waged over sides of the bed, all the way to the kiss he'd planted upon her lips at the mall that afternoon – he'd easily won every match, and she'd failed to return even a single serve.

And that was when the conversation from a few weeks ago had fluttered innocently into her mind, and her lips had curved in a devilish, gleeful grin. She knew _exactly_ how to regain some of the momentum.

He'd been so sure of his assumptions, _so_ very certain that the only way she could sleep at night was wrapped in one of his shirts, his scent all around her. "I _am_ missing one," he'd said, and as far as he'd been concerned, the only possible explanation was that Kensi had stolen it.

"_You love my scent," _he'd quipped cockily.

As sure as he'd been, it should have come as no surprise to him if he were to somehow discover that he'd been correct. And so, her scheme was set into motion. She'd dumped a basketful of clothes into the washer – laundry _did_ need to be done, she'd reasoned; it just wasn't as important as her _other_ objective. With a smirk on her lips, she'd stripped down and slipped on one of his casual white button-down shirts; underneath it, she'd slipped on a pair of her running shorts, rolling the waistband a few times to shorten them, ensuring that they didn't peek out beneath the hem of the shirt. A quick glance in the mirror satisfied her; the hem hit her perfectly at mid-thigh, not too short but not too long either – it would leave _just_ enough to his imagination.

At the time, it had seemed like the most _perfect_ way to regain the upper hand.

And in the end, after all, she _had_ been incredibly satisfied that she'd stunned him deliciously speechless.

But…what if she hadn't?

What if it had all ended differently? What if her carefully crafted plan had fallen apart at the very end? What if he'd been just a little more on top of his game?

_What if…?_

_-:-_

_A triumphant grin plays upon her lips as she pushes past him, pleased with her victory and anticipating her prize of takeout. She's hungry, and just the thrill of leaving her ordinarily loquacious partner completely and utterly speechless will make whatever he brought home taste just that much better. _

_But Kensi doesn't even make it to the doorway before deft fingers quickly wrap around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. He's fast, faster than even she can anticipate; one second, she'd had the upper hand, teasing buttons undone and watching his eyes go as wide as saucers, shock plainly visible in the deep blue orbs. But quicker than a flash of lightning, he's stealing the advantage back from her; she feels it slip from her fingers as he spins her and presses her back to the nearest wall, effectively trapping her there. _

_She tries to draw in a deep breath but quickly regrets it, along with the playful taunt she'd uttered only moments before. Those words come back to haunt her now because quite suddenly he _is_ all around her; the scent of him, strong and masculine and entirely intoxicating, surrounds her and it's more than just a bit more than she can handle. She tells herself to push him, to fight her way out of his strong yet gentle grasp, but the commands issued by her brain go unheard by the rest of her body. She'd taken the risk and decided to play with fire, and now she's stuck, suspended motionless in the moment just before the flame scorches her. _

_And it's only when her gaze locks with his that Kensi realizes just how incredibly burned she's about to be. Her partner's eyes are a deep cobalt, darker than she thinks she's ever seen them before. There's nothing even slightly playful there; instead, it's a look that's almost feral, a look that turns the desire in the pit of her stomach utterly molten. It's a look that thrills her to the very core. _

_At the same time, though, it's a look that frightens her. It frightens her because it transcends the boundaries of safety, leaving the realm of innocent flirtation miles and miles behind, so far gone that it's little more than a distant memory. _

_It's not the look of a partner, a friend, a pretend-husband. It's the look of a lover, and Kensi's not able to conceal the shiver that spreads deliciously through her body. Quite suddenly, she's super-aware of her current state of undress, her slender body hidden by his white button-down, of which far too many of those buttons are already undone. _

_And he seems to realize that at that very same moment. His eyes never leave hers as his hands drift to her chest, his fingers curling almost roughly in the fabric just above the highest button still within its loop. Kensi swallows hard; there's a brief second where she fears he might rip the fabric right off of her, sending buttons flying about the suddenly heated laundry room. _

_He doesn't, though; instead, he opts for the path of most torture. His fingers sinfully steady, he works slowly at the buttons, his touch just ghosting along her skin and, combined with the warmth of his breath on her cheek, it's nearly her undoing. She's trembling, she knows, as he separates the fabric, letting it flutter gently to her sides. _

_Her lips part, but the sound that escapes is little more than a soft whimper as his palms splay against her taut belly. It's possibly the most exhilarating feeling yet but also the most frightening as he guides her far beyond the point of no return – but then again, who is she kidding? She was gone the moment he grasped her wrist. _

_There are no words, but it's a different kind of silence than before. In this silence, she's the victor of nothing, but the surrenderer of all. Her heart pounds erratically against the wall of her chest, almost to the point of pain. She can't breathe, can barely stand. He's turned the tides on her in an instant; the long moments of planning and deliberation that had gone into her small victory have been effortlessly unwound, torn apart at the seams as once again he bests her at this game they play, this dance they do. She's not in control of anything here. _

_She's utterly unprepared for the flood of emotion, the need that drowns her as his mouth hungrily claims hers. She's powerless to do anything but kiss him back as the heat flares deep in her belly, consuming her with this desire that she's _not_ supposed to be feeling, not for him, not for her partner. But it's there, though; it's there and it's entirely undeniable. Entirely undeniable, and entirely dangerous. _

_And entirely not according to plan. She knows she needs to stop this. She needs to push him away, needs to step back and put some boundaries back into place. She needs to stop playing this game with him and just work the assignment – they're here to do a job, not – not this, whatever this is. _

_But instead of pushing him away (she's not sure she can anyway because it feels way too good), she's curling her fingers in his belt and pulling him closer, moaning softly against his mouth as his hips press against hers. Her lips part for his questing tongue, her knees weakening as the kiss deepens, as hard muscles keep her pinned securely between his body and the wall. _

_And then his hands are roaming, gliding seductively to places most decidedly _not_ innocent and her head is spinning; she's dizzy with sensation, with desire. There's no air in the superheated space between them; the lack of oxygen claws angrily at her lungs but the way he's kissing her, lips and tongue and skill…she's not sure she possesses the strength to break away, even for a second. _

_She trembles fiercely when she feels the fabric bring pushed from her shoulders, leaving her almost completely exposed as it falls forgotten to the floor below. Her shaky fingers struggle for a moment with his belt before finally managing to tug it undone. And then…_

_-:-_

Her partner shifts beside her in bed, shocking her abruptly out of her runaway thoughts. And a shock it certainly is – her heart's pounding and she's breathing as if she's just run a marathon. Heat rushes into her cheeks and God, she's never been more glad than she is right now that her partner seems to be such a heavy sleeper because he'd never let her live this down.

Refusing the urge to close her eyes again, she struggles to calm herself; struggles and fails. She swallows hard, though it does very little to relieve her mouth, dry as cotton. She's covered in sweat, no doubt from a combination of the heavy covers, her sultry imagination, and the heat of her partner's body. At the moment, though, it's all too much for her – she _can't_ handle his arm around her right now; _can't_ handle his breath on her skin and the way he nuzzles against her in his sleep…

Space. She needs space and she needs it _desperately. _Slowly and carefully, she pushes back the covers and slips gently out of his reach and out of bed, holding her breath until she's safely in the hallway. It's only then that she lets it out, slowly, shakily, with a hand resting over her still racing heart.

Quietly she makes her way down to the kitchen, not bothering to turn on any lights. A glass in hand, she pours herself some ice water and quickly downs the entire glass, savoring the chill of the icy liquid in the back of her throat. And then, for a moment, she simply stands there in the dark, her palms flat on the counter and her head slightly bowed. Closing her eyes, Kensi concentrates on her breathing – deep, steady breaths in; slow, easy exhales. It calms her, though not quite as much as she'd hoped.

And then, carefully, she allows the thoughts to filter back into her head. One _might_ call what she'd just imagined a fantasy…but _no_. Kensi can rationalize it. Can and does. And so she reasons that it was merely an exercise in looking at both sides of the coin, albeit very much in retrospect. So, really, she's just doing what she'd failed to do the last time her feelings where her partner is concerned had gotten the best of her…even if it _is_ too little, too late.

Last time she'd let her emotions get in the way, Kensi had allowed herself to get so worked up over him that she'd missed the painfully obvious holes in the plan, the plan that she wasn't a part of. She hadn't latched on to the tiny nuances that pricked her suspicions, to the hollowness in his goodbye, the way her team had all but turned their backs on her partner.

That day…she remembers it in achingly vivid clarity, the ruse that had begun with what she'd thought to be her partner shooting an unarmed man. Deeks had played his part well, _so_ very well – his frustration, his anger, his despair, all of it had struck Kensi like a knife to the heart. She'd felt so utterly powerless. Just the very thought of losing him…

She doesn't let that thought complete itself – it's proof of what she already knows, though. If she hadn't let her emotions run the show that day, she's _certain_ she would have seen through that little ruse. That day, losing him simply hadn't been an option she was willing to face, and it had clouded her judgment.

Today, letting the scoreboard continue to tilt in his favor hadn't been an option; she'd let her desire to be the one stunning him for a change decide her actions. If she'd been thinking clearly, surely she would have _never_ pulled such a stunt with him.

Granted, it's a _completely _different scenario.

But as far as she's concerned, the same principle applies because she'd almost allowed herself to be completely blindsided yet again.

What _would_ she have done if he'd turned the tables on her like that?

Would she have been able to keep up if he'd taken the lead?

The heated images that still linger in her thoughts tell her _absolutely not_.

Goosebumps erupt over her skin at the memories, both the real and the imagined. She'd _planned_ for her own victory; she'd seen no other possible outcome. And yet, the imagined outcome, so fresh in her mind, feels so very real. And maybe, if she'd stayed in that laundry room just a second longer, there's no way to tell what might have happened.

And that, hours after the fact, finally hits her. In that moment by the rays of early evening sunlight, she'd claimed her victory, high on a sensual kind of power and the satisfaction of stealing the words right off her partner's lips. Now, though, it's entirely different. Now, the triumph has faded and she's more affected by what she'd done and his reaction to it (oh dear _God_, his reaction) than she'll _ever _be comfortable admitting. _  
_

Despite her careful, meticulous planning, somehow she had managed to jump in way over her head there.

She can't stop picturing the look in his eyes as they roamed over her body. She can't fight back the shiver that consumes her as she recalls the utter appreciation in his gaze, hidden though it'd been in the shock. She'd felt powerful. _Sexy_. And God, she'd _liked_ it. She'd liked the way those gorgeous azure eyes had all but _devoured_ her and now, now it gives her chills.

If she'd _ever_ imagined that little stunt could be more than just a simple game, that she wouldn't be able to just shake it off…she would have never…

_God_.

She's not sure she'll ever be able to look him in the eye again without picturing that moment, that undeniably delicious moment where reality merged seamlessly into her unfettered imagination. And if that had actually occurred…had _anything_ occurred like that, she wouldn't have been prepared for it.

Almost blessedly, Kensi's conflicted thoughts come to an abrupt halt as she catches something, a flash in the corner of her eye. It's only for a fraction of a second, but it's there, she's certain. It's a flicker of light just beyond the window in the backyard; it quickly disappears into the trees but it's enough to bring all her years of NCIS training to the surface.

She only takes a second to make her decision – they _are_ here to investigate, after all, and anything that distracts her mind from Deeks...well, she's going to take it. Silently she makes her way to the patio door and slips outside into the night, pausing only for a moment to consider a weapon. She wants her gun, but in the end she decides against it – it would make her feel better, but in the interest of her cover, it's not a risk she can take. She's in a tank top and shorts with nowhere to hide it, and Melissa…well, her backstopping didn't exactly include any training with firearms, and if it's merely a couple of kids fooling around in the dark, well, pulling a gun on them would raise too many unwelcome questions. And, if she does end up in any sort of trouble out here in the backyard, she knows she's got the skills to physically take down most opponents.

Her breath catches as she sees the flicker of light again, and this time she knows – it's _definitely_ a flashlight. It crosses her mind then that she should go back inside; she should wake Deeks because suddenly, it's a bit more than just incredibly careless to investigate _anything_ without backup. But at the same time, the rush of adrenaline kicks in. As she stands still, listening, waiting, it courses through her body; as she begins to move again, she's tense, readying herself for the possibility of a fight. And, perhaps most dangerously of all, she feels she has the advantage. _They've_ been seen, whoever it is. She's masked in the night.

And yet, that doesn't stop her from wishing she had her gun on her more and more with every step she takes toward the dark trees. She holds her breath, careful not to give herself away, her feet falling almost silently on the chilled, dewy ground.

She just _knows_ something is there. _Someone_.

She takes one, two, then a third step – then jumps at the sound of a snapping twig. Her body goes rigidly still as her gaze darts through the night; it's too dark, though. She can't see a thing, despite the fact that her eyes have long since adjusted. It's not enough, though, and out here, in the calm of her pretend-backyard, she feels entirely too exposed. At least when she's on assignment, a _real_ surveillance assignment, she's got ways of figuring out what's around her. Night-vision equipment, heat sensors, noise amplifiers. Out here…she's just running blind.

The thought morbidly crosses her mind – Kensi Blye, born operator, the agent who'd gone rogue in order to take down her father's murderer by herself…taken out poolside in the backyard.

She barely even has time to picture it before she feels the air grow heavy behind her. She tenses, ready to move, but she's not fast enough. By the time she realizes someone is behind her, it's too late; there's a hand on her shoulder and though she spins quickly with fists raised, ready to fight, her attacker senses her moves half a second before she makes them.

He catches her wrist, stopping her clenched fist just inches from his face. In the darkness, she can sense nothing but his size – in a physical grapple, she's easily outpowered here but even so, she throws another punch with her free fist flying toward his face – no one would ever say Kensi Blye went down without a fight.

But that move is perceived too and her attacker effortlessly foils her once more. "Whoa there, prize fighter," he whispers, and it's only then that, through the haze of adrenaline, she realizes her attacker isn't really an attacker at all.

"Oh my God, _Deeks_," she exhales heavily, not even bothering to correct her slip. She relaxes slightly, and it's probably a good thing he's yet to let her go because as the adrenaline fades, she finds herself wanting to hit him anyway. "What the hell are you doing?"

He feels the tension leave her, and that's the moment Deeks realizes just how much he _had_ scared her. Uncharacteristically though, he doesn't lord that over her. Not this time. Releasing her wrists, he reaches for her shoulders instead. Instinctively and without even fully realizing it, he traces slow, soothing circles over her skin with the pads of his thumbs. "I could ask you the same thing," he points out quietly, giving her a moment to catch her breath. "It's past midnight and you're out here running around in the dark in your pajamas?"

Kensi doesn't offer an explanation right away. Instead, she throws his query right back at him. "Yeah, well, I don't see _you_ in bed either – what are you doing out here?"

Deeks just shrugs. "I felt my wife slip out of bed. When she didn't come back, I got worried." He won't admit it to her lest she starts attempting to hit him again, but most of that statement has nothing to do with their cover, especially once he'd made his way downstairs and realized the patio door was wide open.

Kensi shakes her head. "You were sleeping."

"You _think_ I was sleeping."

Though she knows he probably can't see it in the dark, Kensi narrows her eyes at him, allowing annoyance to seep into her voice. "So the arm around me, the cuddling, and the – the _snuffling_ in my ear? That was all fake?" she hisses.

Deeks smirks and leans close. When he speaks, his voice is solely for her ears. "Cover's gotta be convincing at all times, sugar babe." To illustrate that point, he brushes a playful kiss to her temple and though it might be dark, her soft gasp doesn't go unnoticed. "Seriously though…what _are_ you doing out here alone in the dark?" he presses. "Especially when you could be curled up back in bed with your hunk of a husband."

In the darkness, Kensi doesn't resist the urge to embellish a gag as she extricates herself from his grasp. "I couldn't sleep," she says simply. "I came downstairs to get a drink of water and I thought – I thought I saw something."

Her statement immediately puts him on guard. "And?"

For whatever reason though, she simply shakes it off. "And nothing," she replies, grateful for the dark that helps conceal her lie. She's not entirely sure _why_ she lies either – Kensi _knows_ she saw something. Maybe some part of her _does_ believe it was nothing though; or maybe it's that she doesn't want him worrying about it. She doesn't want him reprimanding her for investigating something she can't even see, in the dark without backup. "It was just those kids from down the street running around the woods with flashlights, trying to see what kind of trouble they can get into."

"Really."

"Yeah." She shrugs again. "Teenagers. You were one once. They think they're badass, wandering around in the middle of the night, up to no good." With that, she turns and begins to head back toward the house. "Uncle Mark catches them out here all the time, you know, they like to steal firewood and use it for target practice." Her steps pause for a moment, and she cocks her head toward the door. "Come on."

He wants to call her out on how terrible of a liar she is, at least to him, but he doesn't. He doesn't, because it risks breaking their cover, and because he realizes she's leading him quietly into the kitchen.

Their safe space.

It's still the one place in the house where they're confident they can talk freely. So Deeks waits patiently, thinking she's going to divulge what she'd really been doing outside, alone in the dark because he doesn't believe the story she'd given him for a second.

But when she _does_ turn to him, the words that leave her lips take him completely by surprise. "Look, Deeks, I…I'm sorry about the thing earlier, with…with the – with your shirt." Kensi hesitates for a second, biting her lip sheepishly. She can feel the heat beginning to rise in her cheeks and she tries everything she can to keep it from showing. "That was…really unprofessional of me and uh, I'm sorry if it made you…uncomfortable."

They _both_ know that's the wrong word because truly, he'd enjoyed every last second of it. His partner is _beautiful_ – there's never been a question in his mind about that. And he loves every last bit of her strength, her ferocity, her reckless insanity. But there had just been something, _something_ about the sight of her in shirt, eyes sparkling and hair askew that had short-circuited every neuron in his brain. And the dangerous part is that it's so easily an image he could get used to seeing. Coupled with that is the quiet, almost shy version of his partner standing in front of him now – she's hesitant and the embarrassment shows on her cheeks, and _damn_ if he doesn't think she looks just utterly adorable. He knows what she's doing; she's apologizing in an effort to re-professionalize this whole game, but the thoughts that fill his head, thoughts of wrapping her in his arms and seeking out her lips with his own, they're decidedly not professional.

In the end, he flicks his tongue over his lips before flashing her a lopsided grin. And for now, he chooses to let his concern over finding her outside in the dark go, at least until the morning. The serious discussions are often best left for the light of day, he's found. "It's no big deal," he says finally. "It's just our game, after all."

Her brow furrows in confusion. "Our game?"

Deeks snickers quietly. "Our little one-upping game that you just can't let go."

"We do not _have_ a one-upping game," Kensi argues, indignance quickly replacing any lingering embarrassment.

Her partner just shrugs nonchalantly. "Okay."

"We _don't." _

"Whatever you say, babe." Before Kensi can reply, Deeks yawns heavily, glancing back toward the stairs. "Now, I don't know about you, but this little excursion has left me _exhausted._ And cold. I'd rather be under the covers than arguing in the kitchen about how much you want to keep my shirt."

Kensi rolls her eyes, though she doesn't try to hide the grin that pulls at her lips. "No one made you get up."

His eyes sparkle playfully - she says _nothing _to counter the end of his declaration. But rather than press that, Deeks decides to lock that one away, knowing he can revisit that in the future. "That's just it," he murmurs, crossing behind her to draw the kitchen drapes closed. When he approaches again, he gently trails his fingertips along her lower back, unknowingly setting off that cascade of sparks in her again. "Your delicious hubby can't sleep without his bride beside him," he breathes. Kensi's breath catches, but it's the low, almost seductive invitation he utters as he drifts away from her that_ really_ settles deep in the pit of her stomach.

"So come on back to bed, beautiful."

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	6. six

_**A/N:** This one's for the amazing gals of Twitter. Enjoy! :) _

* * *

_She emerges quietly from the bathroom, her freshly dried hair falling in gentle waves around her mostly bare shoulders. Wearing a simple, string-strapped tank and a pair of shorts, the heat from her long shower still radiates from her skin, leaving her flushed and warm but not entirely settled. But then again, days like this…sometimes, she thinks it's a miracle she ever manages to shake them off. _

_It's late, about a quarter past midnight and they've got an early day tomorrow, but Kensi's not surprised to see her companion still awake. In fact, the scene before her has her lips curving in a soft smile, despite the demons that still linger from this last case. Then again, as she's noticed over the past several years, no matter the darkness their job may plunge them into, he always makes it easy to find the light at the end. _

_Clichéd, she knows. Incredibly clichéd. But even so, she's found it to be nothing less than utterly true. Always. _

_The light from the lamp on the nightstand illuminates the bedroom with a soft glow. It's not very bright, but it's enough for Deeks as he sits propped against the headboard, a book in his hands. She knows he had to have heard her come out, but his ocean blues stay fixed to the page in front of him. _

_In fact, he doesn't react to her presence until she's slipping beneath the covers next to him, reaching out and gently coaxing his book closed. "You didn't have to wait up, you know," she murmurs, a smile tugging at her lips. _

_He just shrugs and smiles as he places his book aside on the nightstand. "I know. Felt like reading a bit tonight, though." _

_Kensi sees right through his lie – she knows he hadn't truly been reading at all. But she doesn't call him out because she knows what he's doing – being concerned without pushing. Without admitting to his concern. It's sweet…even though she still would have hit him for it years ago. _

_They've certainly come a long way from years ago, Kensi thinks as she settles in beside him, happily letting him drape an arm around her. And that, that simple little display of affection, goes a long way in helping her shake away some of the remnants of the case. She'd always thought that would make it harder and in the past, maybe it had…but with Deeks? She's not going to admit it to anyone, least of all him, but whereas in the past she'd looked forward to a hot bubble bath at the end of the roughest days, now, it's the strength and the warmth of his arms around her. _

_But if anybody ever dares to accuse her of going soft, she'll show them otherwise in a nanosecond. _

_She's still Badass Blye, after all. _

_For now, though, she lets a bit of that tough exterior fall away, something she does only for him. Only for him…that's a list of things that, long ago, she'd sworn wouldn't go beyond one or two little things, but turns out she'd really had no control over that. There's a lot of things in the whirlwind of their relationship that she's had no control over whatsoever…but for once in her life, Kensi's found that sometimes, she's okay with that. She's okay with that because he's not like anyone else. He's not just anyone else, and she trusts him._

_He's still the only one she trusts. _

_A soft smile playing at her lips, Kensi sighs quietly, resting her head on Deeks' shoulder. His arm tightens around her then, and rather than tense up, she relaxes into him, letting out the deep breath she feels as if she's been holding all day. _

_"You feeling better?" her companion asks softly, his lips ghosting over the top of her head. His fingertips take up a gentle dance against the soft, bare skin of her upper arm, soothing away the angry patches of red that remain from the scalding water of her shower. _

_For a long moment, she doesn't answer. She's stopped giving him her customary answers, her steady, controlled replies of "I'm fine." There's no point in it – he sees through it and it gives her no comfort to lie to him. She closes her eyes and simply breathes, appreciating the security just his presence alone offers her. She doesn't necessarily need it…but she wants it. Wants him. And at this point, she can't imagine her life without him. _

_She thinks she could simply drift away here, hypnotized by the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. But she doesn't, though. Not yet. Can't, because there's still that bit of darkness gnawing at the edge of her sanity, the necessary darkness that never fully goes away, not in their line of work. "Some days," she admits finally, her voice little more than a hushed whisper, "I just wish it was easier to…get everything off." _

_The fact that she would need to wish that breaks his heart, though he knows it's a wish that passes through each and every one of their heads at various points. "I know," he murmurs softly, letting her discreetly burrow into him. Whatever comfort she can take from him, he's willing to offer it, whenever she wants it. "Does it ever make you think about walking away?" _

_Her answer is quick, effortless. "No, of course not." _

_The defiance is clear in her voice, as is the disbelief – she can't believe he would ever ask her such a thing. This is who she is. Who they are. It's their life. To walk away from that…well, she's not sure who she would be. _

_And yet, it's a point he'd reached in the not so distant past, when he'd finally made the choice to lay down his LAPD shield and take on the full armor of NCIS. "Even if you did, there's nothing wrong with that," he points out softly, letting his touch drift into her hair. He twirls the wavy locks gently in his fingers, mesmerized by the softness against his skin. _

_She sighs, letting her eyes flutter open. Her mind drifts momentarily back to a long-ago conversation with Hetty in the NCIS armory, a conversation she'd shrugged off at the time because it seemed just utterly ridiculous. Back then, NCIS was her life. It was the most important thing she had, and there was nothing that could have made her think there'd come a time when she'd want to, as Hetty had said, hang up her gun. _

_It's still ridiculous to her, but then again, Kensi can't deny that a lot of things that seemed ridiculous to her back then don't seem at all that way now. Like the idea of letting someone else in after what had happened with Jack; like the idea of falling in love again after she'd closed all of those doors in an effort to keep from being hurt again. _

_And, perhaps most of all, the idea that she would find all of that with her scruffy blue-eyed partner. Ridiculous, indeed. _

_And yet, now she's curled up in bed with him, snuggled in his arms and there's not a thing in the world she would give this up for. It's nice, she can't help but admit. It's nice and she's happy and…yeah, she's in love with him. _

_It's an admission that used to bring laughter to her lips. Now, though, it floods her with warmth, warmth that spreads all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes and puts a smile on her face that she knows she couldn't bite back if she tried. _

_"I don't want to walk away. But…"_

_She trails off, unable to finish. _

_He doesn't need her to, though._

_"I know." _

_And she smiles. _

_She smiles, because it's nice, having someone to come home to at night. Not just someone to help fight away the demons of the day, but someone who knows those demons quite well, someone who knows just what the job does to her, what it sometimes requires of her. _

_It's nice, having someone who gets her. Who knows her. Who understands her. _

_And it's nice that the person she trusts to have her back every day out in the field is the very same person she wakes up with every morning and says goodnight to each night. _

_So she never thinks about walking away._

_But, if she had to make the choice between the two, if she had to choose between the badge and the life the badge led her to…_

* * *

She's awoken abruptly by a large splash of cold water on her bare stomach. Instinctively, she reaches to the side; if she were at home in her own bed, her fingers would curl around the cool, reassuring metal of her gun. She's not at home in her bed, though, and her fingers clutch merely at the air.

Merely air, because she's stretched out on one of the poolside lounge chairs in her bikini. Deeks is standing a few feet away from her, grinning madly as he makes no effort to hide the empty bucket in his hand. "What the hell?" she questions, stopping herself just before she uses his actual name.

Her partner's grin only widens, and it's clear that he's much too pleased with himself right now. The devious sparkle in his eyes tells her without any doubt that he's far too at ease with the fact that she, as Melissa, can't retaliate without breaking her cover. "Sorry, angelbabe," he smirks, nothing at all genuine in his apology. "You were looking _way_ too comfortable there. Needed to wake you up before you burned out here."

And he couldn't have woken her up like a normal person, she wonders with annoyance. Then again…it _is_ Deeks – he probably could have done a _whole_ lot worse than splash her with a bucket of cool water. Now that she's awake, with the heat of the day and the sun blazing down, it actually doesn't feel too bad, but she's not going to admit _that_ to him. "Please. I tan. You're the one who burns through SPF 5000."

He just grins. "You sure about that? 'Cause you're looking pretty crispy there around the edges, sugarplum."

Kensi groans inwardly – the terms of endearment wouldn't be so bad if, number one, they were _clever_, and if number two, she knew they would go away once they left this assignment behind. Somehow, she already knows they won't, though; she's no psychic but she's seeing quite a few three AM "sugarbear?" texts in her future. _God_, her partner can be so _infuriating_ sometimes.

But rather than linger on all the things she _can't_ do to get back at him, she simply sighs and stands from her chair, stretching in the sunlight. "I thought you were going to the store," she says, not missing the way Deeks' eyes roam her bikini-clad body.

He shrugs. "I did, sleepyhead. Actually, went to the store, came home, went for my jog. Had a chat with some neighbors. And then I was thinking about dinner when I decided we shouldn't waste this beautiful day with another night of takeout." He cocks his head in the direction of the grill. "Thought we'd cook out." Deeks pauses thoughtfully, tilting his head. "Or, rather, _I'd_ cook out. Don't want you blowing up the neighborhood."

"Funny guy," Kensi quips, playfully jabbing an elbow into his side as she steps past him, toward the pool. "Burgers? Hot dogs?" she asks.

"Steaks," he answers, knowing that's exactly the answer Kensi – or her stomach, rather – wants to hear. "Time for me to show off my mean barbecue skills. One bite, and you'll think you've died and gone to heaven."

Kensi snorts. "Or maybe just _died_."

"This, from the woman who mistakes _salt_ for sugar when trying to bake a cake," he quips. Kensi glares at him, but by now, he's immune to that. Completely immune. "God, you're lucky you married such a divine chef."

She wants to give a fake gag in response, but she knows Melissa wouldn't. And, beyond that, Kensi can't deny that he's got a point. For all the skills she lacks in the kitchen, her partner seems to make up for them in spades. That's one thing she'll miss once this assignment is over, his cooking. Not that she'll admit it, though.

Instead, she lowers herself carefully to the side of the pool, dipping her long, tanned legs in the cool, sparkling water. On a hot day like today, it feels heavenly, and Kensi can't help but sigh contentedly. Perching her sunglasses on top of her head, she blinks sleepily in the bright sunlight, watching as her partner goes to work on the grill on the other side of the pool. The very mention of dinner had set her stomach rumbling after her long poolside nap.

After awhile, she closes her eyes and sighs again, tilting her head back as she basks in the sun. The warmth of sleep is still quite heavy in her limbs, leaving her all but unguarded as the memory of her dream rushes back to her.

She's in the midst of reliving it when the sound of a splash brings her back to the present. Blinking her eyes open, she watches her pretend husband swim his way toward her. With the grill successfully going, he's clearly decided he deserves a break. His t-shirt lays discarded on one of the lounge chairs, and Kensi shakes her head, finding herself admiring _too_ much his muscles as his toned body glides through the water.

When he surfaces in front of her, though, the grin on his face tells her immediately that he knows she was watching him. And then before that…thinking about him. "Daydreaming about your _delicious_ hubby over here?" he teases, splashing her legs playfully.

Kensi smirks. "More like daydreaming of the delicious steak I'm going to have soon," she says, embellishing a quiet moan. "Can't _wait." _

She traces her pink tongue slowly over her lips, and as far as Deeks is concerned, that right there completes the image in front of him. _Damn_, but his partner is nothing short of a _goddess_ as she sits on the ledge of the pool, her perfect, toned legs dangling in the water. She's tossed her hair up in a messy, carefree bun at the back of her head, wavy strands escaping here and there, teased free by the breeze. And he can't help but admire her lean, gorgeous body, clad in nothing but the fabric of her bikini, tied in the back and at her hips by mere strings. His gaze roams appreciatively over her curves, skating over her taut, toned belly and mesmerized for a moment by the glimmer of crystal in her navel. The sight before him…she's easily the most breathtaking woman he's ever laid eyes on and he's sure, _damn_ sure that he'll never see his partner quite like this again.

"You act like you've never seen your wife in a bikini," she drawls, a smile tugging at her lips and a sparkle in her eye as she catches him staring.

Nobody is going to beat Deeks in the charm department, though. He floats his way in front of her and gently lays his palms upon her calves in the water. "What can I say?" he murmurs, playing with fire as he leans in, placing a daring yet gentle kiss to the inside of her knee – likely something _Justin_ has done thousands of times. "You take my breath away like the first time, every time…"

Kensi grins, trying her best to ignore the flutter in her chest as his lips touch her knee. "Charmer," she teases, reaching down to ruffle his wet locks.

His hand flies swiftly out of the water, his fingers closing around her wrist before she can even anticipate his next move. "I'll show you my charm," he smirks, and with one quick tug of her wrist and an ankle, Kensi yelps and crashes into the pool with a splash. Taken completely by surprise, she goes right under, but Deeks quickly guides her back to the surface. She coughs and rubs her eyes before blinking them open to see Deeks grinning madly right in front of her.

"Seriously? Was that really _necessary_?"

He just laughs. "You looked hot, babe," he says with a wink. "I needed to cool you down. Pretty sure that was in our vows somewhere…"

"You're ridiculous."

"You _love_ me."

Kensi rolls her eyes, then squeezes them shut for a long moment, fighting the sharp burn of chlorine. "You could have _warned_ me first," she protests.

"But that wouldn't have been any fun at all," Deeks teases with a grin. "Besides," he continues gently grasping both of her wrists, "don't act like this isn't one of your…_fantasies."_

Her eyes fly open. "My what?"

He tugs her close to him; in the water, there's next to no resistance. Leaning in, he presses his lips to her jaw, leaving a playful kiss just beneath her ear. "Your fantasy, princess," he breathes, not unaware of her sharp intake of air.

Kensi squirms against him, her heart beginning to pound. She has _no_ idea what he's talking about, no idea what he's doing; she wonders if maybe he's _still_ trying to get her back for her stunt with his shirt. But that was _days_ ago, and didn't cross _nearly_ as many lines as this does. She gasps audibly when his daring lips close around her earlobe and suck playfully; _that's_ a step too far and she digs her nails into his shoulder. "_Justin."_

He pulls back just enough to place a finger over her lips, his eyes glittering devilishly as he silences her. And it's then that her heartbeat _really_ begins to accelerate as she realizes how very _vulnerable_ she is to him right now; to his charm, to those eyes, to _him_. His strong arms snake around her as he coaxes her body into his, and before she even completely realizes he's moving them, she feels her back hit the side of the pool.

And he closes in on her then, his slick body hard against hers as the cool water splashes gently around them, though it does nothing to cool the fire that's beginning to build within her. "What – what _on earth_ are you _doing?"_ she hisses quietly, a tremble in her voice that she's not entirely able to mask.

Her partner leans in again and this time, her eyes flutter close as his nose brushes hers, just enough to spark the electricity in her body. She tries to draw in a deep breath, but all it brings to her lungs is the strong, masculine scent of Deeks mixed with the faint scent of chlorine; the heady combination has her head spinning in seconds. Suddenly, such a playful moment has tilted completely to the other side; no longer playful, it's instead intense and heated and Kensi feels herself almost suffocated by the tension between them, unresolved sexual tension coiled so tightly that it wouldn't take much to set it aflame.

He's so close that she can feel his breath on her face, and it's now that her heart begins to pound, now that she feels her body begin to hum with electricity. Even with her eyes closed she knows that the smallest tilt of his head, or hers, could bring their lips together.

And just when she thinks that's exactly what he's going to do, he breaks her out of her trance with a quiet, raspy whisper. "Pool shed," he breathes, the simple words dancing with an utterly seductive heat across her slightly parted lips.

It doesn't click for her – nothing is, not at the moment. Her thoughts are nothing but mush in her head, but that doesn't matter because he clarifies for her quickly. "The light on the side, next to the door," he murmurs. "There's a tiny camera on it. Facing the pool."

_That_ manages to break through the haze in Kensi's brain. Swallowing hard, she fights to keep her composure, to appear natural, as if her partner hadn't just told her there were eyes upon them. She can't help the way her body tenses against him, though. "You – you're lying," she murmurs.

He _could_ be. It's exactly the kind of thing her devious partner would do just to ruffle her feathers, just to play with her, just to knock her off her balance. He's done it before, she reasons.

And yet… "I'm not."

The way he says it sends a shiver down her spine. Her heart had been pounding before – now, it's utterly _racing_. Now, it's not just the moment, not just the proximity of her partner's well-muscled body to hers that has her breathing hard – it's the thought that they've been watched this entire time. Has she slipped at all? Has she said or done anything to compromise their cover? How long has it been there? This certainly isn't the first time they've been out by the pool – have they done anything at all that would seem suspicious?

All these thoughts race violently through her mind, but when she speaks, her voice, though a whisper, is almost completely steady. "Are – are you sure?"

"Hundred percent," he breathes without a second's hesitation, his lips barely parting.

For a moment she collects her thoughts, trying to arrange them logically in her head. "Any idea –"

"Who put it there?" he finishes for her, then follows up with a tiny, nearly imperceptible shake of his head. "No."

"So what – what do we do?" she asks, despite already knowing the answer. And it's an answer that secretly thrills her.

His answer is simple, though the challenge in his hushed voice is clear to her – he doesn't think she'll play along. "We do what Justin and Melissa would do," his meaning _incredibly_ crystal clear in his blue eyes. Under the water, he traces his fingertips suggestively up and down her sides, feeling her squirm slightly against him. "We gotta play it through, babe."

His words from several mornings ago echo back to her, just as clearly as if he's saying them again now. _"So, you see, we still have to put on a good show…"_

She doesn't even have the chance to ponder just what exactly that means before his mouth finally claims hers and even though she'd _known_ it was coming from his hushed words and the look in his eyes, even though she'd been _ready_ for it…Kensi finds herself taken _completely_ by storm by his kiss. It's hungry and demanding, nothing at all like the quick, gentle peck he'd placed upon her lips at the mall.

_That_ had been enough to make her wonder, enough to make her secretly want more.

But this…this is the kind of kiss that she'll be amazed she's still standing when all's said and done.

She tells herself it's part of the show when her arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer as her mouth meets his demands kiss for kiss, letting the natural give-and-take between them dictate the rhythm. Her fingers thread into his hair, clutching at the wet, unruly strands as his lips mesh with hers over and over again, as if this is a dance they've danced together for years.

His palm finds her cheek and gently tilts her into him, closer to him. Her lips part for him eagerly, and then she's digging her nails into his slick shoulders as he deepens the kiss, his tongue playfully teasing hers and sending shivers racing down the length of her spine. She moans softly, can't hold it back; she knows he'll likely tease her about it later, tease her about how much she _clearly_ wants him but right now…right now, she can't bring herself to care about that at all. She's not caring about anything right now except the seductive press of his lips against hers, the gentle scratch of his scruff against her skin as he kisses her.

The wispy flutters of warnings flit aimlessly through her mind, but they don't even formulate into full sentences before they're swallowed up by the haze of desire that's quickly consuming every fiber of her being. It's all noise to her, all the reminders that this _isn't_ actually real, that it's just pretend, that it's really all just a game…

She can't separate it, though. Doesn't think she could even if she wanted to. The more she tastes of him, the more his hands wander, the more she feels the hard, chiseled muscles of his body against hers…the more Melissa fades farther and farther into the background. And as his strong arms envelope her completely, Melissa ceases to exist.

And suddenly, to Kensi, this _isn't _just a cover. This isn't just a kiss for the cameras; it's not just a kiss to sell their marriage to any prying eyes. Every last bit of this, from the fervor of his mouth on hers and the way her lips respond, to the molten desire burning her from the inside out to the way her legs wrap instinctively around his hips…this is _real._ She's no longer Melissa, and he's no longer Justin. She's Kensi, and he's Deeks, and there's not even the slightest trace of their false identities remaining anywhere.

It's then that she registers something deep in the back of her mind, beneath the sexual haze and the fiery lust and the need for something that's _clearly_ and completely Deeks. It flickers in her mind for just a brief second before it's chased away: if _this_ is the struggle that comes with deep cover, the necessity of leaving one's true identity completely behind, then perhaps she's _not_ entirely ready for it. Not as ready as she would have believed. Because…well, she's not even struggling right now – there's _no_ struggle. Kensi has won, and Melissa is but a memory.

This is Kensi, her limbs entwined with her partner's in the pool, the cool water making their slick bodies glide effortlessly against each other, her lips meshing with his as she kisses him as though she could never _stop_ kissing him, and it's then that the realization fully crashes into her. She's felt it before, but she's always tried to write it off as something else. Now, though…she can't. She can't, and knowing that just makes the desire burn even hotter.

She _wants_ him.

Oh dear _God_, how badly she wants him.

The fiery ache in the pit of her belly simply won't be quelled. It's too much, too fast, and yet, the only thing Kensi wants is _more. _More of this, more of _him_. More of her irritating, frustrating, utterly maddening partner; more of his mouth, his hands, his skin against hers. Her head spins as his kisses grow hungrier and she's powerless, utterly powerless to do anything but respond. Her hips rock slowly into his, and the groan Deeks gives against her lips goes straight to her core.

And _oh_, how incredibly dangerous this is. They're separated by little more than the material of his trunks and her bikini bottom; with barely a second's thought, those could _easily _be discarded of. And as his palms skate seductively over her hips beneath the water, there's no denying that that's _exactly_ what she wants right now. She's drowning – that's the only word for it, the only one that fits. She's drowning in him, in his arms, his kisses, the delicious feel of his body pressing against hers. She's drowning, and the last thing she wants is to _ever_ be saved, to _ever_ end this. If this is how it feels to drown, to crash under the waves and never come up, well, right now she doesn't care to ever reach the surface again.

The visions fill her imagination; heated, utterly _delicious_ images that oh so easily elicit a quiet moan from deep in her throat; a quiet moan and a shudder that consumes every inch of her body. And oh, how vivid it is in her mind; if _this_ is so delectably good, then what would it be like with the softness of the mattress at her back? Cool, crisp sheets beneath her, the hard, heated planes of her partner's body hovering above her, his skin, his muscles all bared for her eyes to drink in, her hands to discover. Skin against flushed skin, heat and electricity radiating between them. His mouth on her body; his palms and fingertips teasing and building up, only to leave her perched so precariously on the edge. Torture…but such _exquisite_ torture.

She whimpers; can't help it. The sound is muffled against his lips but she knows he hears it, knows by the way his touch glides over the smooth skin of her back, the way he nips playfully at her lower lip. She shudders in his arms and digs her nails into his shoulders as her hands drift their way upward, his hair their final destination.

And his hands aren't immobile either; his fingers are a little more daring than hers are, though. Teasingly they sneak their way to the back of her neck, suggestively sliding beneath the strings of her bikini top. He tugs gently, playfully at the strings, and finally, _finally_ she tears her lips away from his; caught between his body and the side of the pool, though, she can't go far and he certainly doesn't let her. "Don't – don't you _dare_," she breathes against his mouth, clutching him tightly as she struggles to catch her breath.

He just smirks against her mouth, then pushes one step further as he tugs the bow free. "You love it…"

"Deeks!" she gasps quietly, shivering as he cuts her off with another control-shattering kiss. There are a number of things she'll always say about her partner – he's annoying, he's maddening, he drives her _utterly_ up the wall, he presses and pushes and _refuses_ to leave her alone…but the one thing she never, _ever_ thought she'd have the experience to say is that her shaggy, scruffy, surfing partner is one _hell_ of a kisser.

And oh…she's in trouble here.

By the time he fully breaks away from her, she's trembling. Honest to God trembling in his arms, her body so alive with electricity that she can barely move. She doesn't separate from him until he's coaxing her legs free and gently placing her back on her feet. It's only then that her eyes flutter open, as his hands again drift to the back of her neck, his fingertips setting her skin aflame everywhere they touch. He touches his forehead to hers as he slowly reties the bow he'd so playfully undone just moments before.

It's just when she thinks the heat is starting to subside that Deeks meets her gaze, his eyes a deep, desire-laden cobalt that has Kensi's breath catching in the back of her throat. He might have started this; it might have been his game, his play for the camera, but with just one look into his eyes, Kensi knows he's just as shaken as she is. And that…that sets the butterflies into furious motion in her belly.

Suddenly, she doesn't know how she's going to keep playing this cover with him, after that. She doesn't know how she's going to go to sleep beside him in bed tonight, let alone when she inevitably wakes up in the morning in his arms, like she has the past few mornings.

She's gotten herself in trouble on assignments before.

But this is the first time she truly feels in over her head. This is the first time she feels as if there's truly no way out of this.

And though she's faced many criminals with knives and guns and various other weapons, somehow, nothing has ever felt as dangerous as _this_.

His voice, quiet and breathy, breaks into her thoughts and God, it takes everything she has not to imagine that voice whispering her name under other circumstances. "I should, uh, check on the steaks," he murmurs, gesturing in the direction of the grill. "Don't want them to get too well done or anything."

"Yeah…" She thinks she should have a playful reply at the ready, something sharp-witted and typical of their teasing banter…but right now, she's got _nothing_. She can barely even stand, placing a shaky hand on the concrete to hold herself steady.

And _he's_ got nothing as well. Not his typical smirk or grin, not his typical witty, clever quip to break the tension. The man who has a playful remark for everything…suddenly doesn't. He's speechless.

Speechless, just like he'd been upon seeing her in his shirt.

That time, she'd felt the triumph of gaining the upper hand, however fleeting that might have been.

This time…well, she's not entirely sure _what_ she feels.

What she _does_ know, though, is that it's not something she's felt in years. Not since…

Not since Jack.

She can't tear her eyes away from her partner as he lifts himself easily from the pool, rivulets of water making their way down his toned chest as he stands tall in the sunlight. He runs a hand through his wet hair, making it stick out at odd angles that Kensi thinks should make her laugh, but instead only make her want to run _her_ fingers through it.

And even worse, she _aches_ for that. For that, for his body against hers again, for the taste of his kiss. It's then that the lingering heat and desire begins to meld with the memory of the dream she'd had earlier, though it seems almost an eternity ago now.

And then, both of the memories begin to seep unbidden into a chest she'd locked up long ago, a chest hidden in the deepest part of her soul, the one that contains the desires of a younger Kensi Blye, the dreams of the life she'd hoped for when she was still young and naïve and newly engaged to the love of her life.

It's when that chest bursts open and allows the hopes and dreams of her past to mingle with her heated desires of the present that she realizes she may be in _way_ over her head here.

She doesn't know how or when or _why_ she ever let that happen.

But even more than that, though, Kensi's not sure there's a way out.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	7. seven

_**A/N:** For the awesome Angèle, who pushed and prodded and helped and blackmailed and yelled at me until this chapter finally pulled itself together. You rock, A. :)_

* * *

"You okay, Kens?"

Her team leader's voice breaks through the fog in her mind, clouded thoughts that are just as turbulent as the overcast sky outside. It seems there's truly no place safe, no alcove hidden well enough in the Spanish hacienda housing the NCIS operations center to grant her more than a few moments of quiet solitude. Of course she'd hoped, but clearly it'd made very little difference.

She feels him approach her; hears his steady footsteps on the floor behind her, but Kensi makes no effort to face him. Instead, she keeps her gaze to the slightly dusty window, knowing the volatile skies could open up at any time. How very appropriate, she thinks darkly before closing her eyes for just a moment, attempting to clear her mind. Still, when she speaks, she knows her voice doesn't project the amount of certainty that it should. "Fine," she says simply.

Callen crosses his arms, fixing his gaze on his junior agent. There's not much he can tell with her back to him, but really, she'd shown him everything he'd needed to see during the briefing earlier. Uncharacteristically, he'd taken a step back and allowed the other agents to lead that afternoon; he'd allowed Hetty and Sam to ask the questions and he'd allowed Eric and Nell to put all the information they'd gathered so far together. And Callen himself…well, he'd focused in on Kensi.

Closed-off and tense, that's how he'd described her earlier that afternoon in Ops. Not that she's ever really an open book to anyone, but this had gone beyond even that. She hadn't cracked a smile at Sam's good-natured teasing; hadn't rolled her eyes with the rest of them at some incredibly lame quip Eric had made about one of the neighbors they'd ruled out as a suspect. Her answers had been short and simple, almost as if something much more pressing was currently occupying her mind – that in itself was a red flag for Callen, because Kensi is nothing if not on top of her game.

And then there was the complete absence of her partner…

Doesn't take Nell's IQ to figure out that something is amiss, he thinks.

"So what's the deal?" he asks, deciding not to beat around the bush – Kensi could dance around the subject for days if he'd let her. "Deeks thinks he's too good to show up for briefing? Or just too lazy? I had a feeling that whole life of luxury thing would go to his head."

Kensi hums in quiet amusement, though Callen can tell it's mostly forced. "Actually, under the circumstances, we both decided it might be best if it was just me," she begins before reciting the reason she'd quickly thought up on the way there. Luckily, it's a good reason. "If we're being watched, it looks less suspicious if we do some things separately."

"Do you have a reason to believe you're being watched?"

Kensi hesitates, biting at her lower lip. The answer to his question is _absolutely_ yes. The problem, of course, is that acknowledging those reasons means letting her mind drift, and that is very dangerous indeed. That's the very reason she'd demanded that Deeks stay behind today, because even though it's been a few days, she's not ready to face it. She's not ready to discuss what had happened and what it means for them as partners, and letting him come with her today would have allowed him to break cover and push.

It's the exact same reason why she hasn't let herself be caught in the kitchen alone with him since that afternoon in the pool. Truth is, she hasn't been able to clear it from her mind. That moment, that kiss (oh God, that kiss) has haunted her during every waking moment; at night, when she tries to sleep, she closes her eyes and relives it again and again, affected so deeply that her heart pounds and goosebumps break out over her skin. It's ridiculous, truly ridiculous, and _damn_ her partner, because he barely seems bothered at all.

(She's more flustered by _that_ than by anything else, she thinks.)

Callen's calling her name again, and Kensi blinks, surfacing from the wave of…of _whatever this is_ that keeps attempting to drag her back under – she's got no name for it and really, she doesn't _want_ to place a name to it. That would mean truly acknowledging its presence and as far as Kensi is concerned, life's much easier when those things are ignored. So that's what she'll do. "We did find a camera outside," she answers finally, intentionally leaving out the rest of the details. "Don't know who put it there, or how long it's been there, but someone definitely has eyes on us."

"And that's what has you bothered, right?" he presses.

"I'm not bothered."

_Wrong answer._ He purses his lips for a moment, stopping just shy of calling her out on her inability to lie. In the end, he's not looking for an argument, and really, that's more Deeks' territory than his own. Callen doesn't push – he can think of only once in all the time she's been on his team that he's had to ask her, point blank, if he needed to pull her from the case.

The feeling he has now is pretty damn close to what he'd felt then – he's got nothing to go on but a hunch, but Callen's fairly sure she's allowed the lines between Melissa and Kensi to blur too much. What that means for the case…well, he's not sure. He just doesn't know.

And that's why he's sought her out this evening, before she goes back in. He needs to be sure she's in control, just as she always is.

He'd been hesitant about this assignment in the beginning, truly. He'd known the risks, having been there a time or two himself. And as the leader of this elite team of agents, Callen isn't blind. He's watched this…whatever it is from the beginning. The flirtation between Kensi and Deeks is natural, nonstop, upstaged only by the teasing, the playful insults, the constant, desperate _need_ to one-up each other. But beneath all of that, there seems to be something more, something he's watched come to the surface more and more over the past year, something that had truly made giving the two of them this assignment a difficult decision, and it's _not_ just the fact that she's never actually done anything other than short covers.

He knows from experience just how badly, how _quickly_ an assignment like this can destroy something good and, well, he had _not_ liked what he'd seen from Kensi that afternoon. To say he's concerned; that's an understatement of the highest order. Taking another step toward her, his voice is little more than a whisper now, and that's enough to put Kensi on full alert. What he says here, he clearly doesn't intend for it to go beyond the two of them. "You know, it's not always the easiest thing, two agents…two partners playing a couple…"

An icy block of dread drops into her stomach at his words, but somehow, due no doubt to all her years of training, she manages to keep her outward reaction to little more than a slight shrug. "Are you saying there's a problem?" she asks evenly.

"I just need to know that your head is clear, Kens. That you're still focused on the objective here." He hesitates for a moment before pointing out Deeks' absence once more. "If Deeks were here, I'd be telling him the same thing."

"What, that undercover doesn't mean under _the_ covers?" she quips. She stops herself before she continues, before she asks Callen if he's _really_ the most qualified to give this speech. In her mind, she can hear with vivid clarity the banter she and Deeks had shared over a year before. She doesn't remember the case itself, but at the moment, she hears her partner wondering aloud about just how far Callen and Tracy might have taken their own undercover marriage.

As if reading her mind, Callen admits what she already knows. "I made the mistake of getting too close myself," he says. "I made it twice. And Deeks – he's made it twice too. At least, that I know of."

Callen doesn't have to elaborate for Kensi to know exactly who he means – Nicole Martindale and Jess Traynor. The memory of the first has her biting at the inside of her cheek; she'd been only too pleased to see the other woman taken away. "Well, I'm not you and I'm not Deeks," Kensi says simply, crossing her arms over her chest.

He nods slightly, acknowledging her point. Still, he has his own though. "It's easy to fall into something like that, Kensi," he says softly. "It's easy; it always starts out innocently enough. An embrace or a kiss just to keep from breaking cover. You think it means nothing, because you never, ever imagine it could ever go beyond that. And then you…get comfortable. You become at ease with your alias, your partner's alias."

Sighing heavily, Callen wishes she would face him – knows she won't, though, and that's not reassuring in the slightest. In fact, it just makes him even more uneasy about this whole situation. He doesn't want to be telling her _any_ of this; he wouldn't, either, if he wasn't absolutely sure something was amiss. And he's seen enough since the two of them went under to be more than just suspicious. "You think it never could, and then out of nowhere, suddenly there's a spark."

It takes every ounce of willpower she possesses to refrain from shivering at his words. Because that's _exactly_ it, and God, how she _hates_ that he's hit the nail on the head, just like that. Sparks, heat, electricity. An embrace in the bathroom, flirting in the kitchen, a kiss at the mall, his shirt, the pool…her heart accelerates just thinking about it.

And yet, his warnings present a challenge to her, one that her competitive nature can't quite tame. Callen had gone too far twice and failed. Deeks, the same. But Kensi…

_No_, she thinks. Those are fates that are best left untempted.

Almost as if hearing the quarrel in her mind, Callen speaks again, voicing something that, deep inside, Kensi's known to be true ever since her dark gaze locked with eyes of the deepest crystal blue, separated by a field of lasers and quite possibly death itself. "You and Deeks make _damn_ good partners, Kensi. And the two of you have finally built up that trust that you need to _be_ such good partners." He pauses for a moment, enough to give his next words the gravity they need. "You two need to come out of this assignment and be able to go back to that."

"You think we can't?"

"_Can_ you?"

Oh, how such an innocent inquiry can be so very _infuriating._ It's a challenge; it's a clear doubting of her skills. And that, needless to say, hits Kensi right in the gut. "It's under control, Callen." Finally she turns to face him with fire in her dark eyes – she's actually saved his ass quite a few times and frankly, she finds his insinuations insulting. "You want to know why I was bothered?" she asks. "I was _bothered_ by the extra surveillance that we've seemed to attract this week – cameras where there weren't cameras before, people in the backyard in the dead of night. I was _bothered_ because I was retracing my steps on the way here, making sure there's no way anybody could crack my story. I'm _bothered_ because I've been a part of this team for years now, but I'm still the only one without any experience in deep cover. I like to think I've proven myself by now, because I am _just_ as good at this as the rest of you are. I'm in control, Callen."

"I hope you're right," he says as she turns to go. But as he watches her retreating form, he simply shakes his head, not at all reassured. First, her protest was much too defensive; she's much too tightly wound.

And second? He's heard all of it before.

Heard it, and said it himself.

* * *

It's nearly nightfall by the time Kensi returns; she's been gone plenty long enough for her cover story to hold up. Should a neighbor stop her to say hello, Melissa has an old friend in town for the evening. Dinner, movie, and a gossip session between college friends is more than enough to explain her absence for much of the day.

Luckily though, she encounters no one on the short trek from her car to the door. Once inside, darkness and the faint sound of the tv in the den greet her, and finally she takes a deep breath and attempts to coax her nerves to relax. She's exhausted, really – the past few anxious, sleepless nights have taken their toll on her, not to mention the visit to Ops.

Then again, if not for the conversation – confrontation, really – with Callen, she thinks she might not be quite as dead on her feet as she is.

Sighing, she kicks off her shoes and leaves them forgotten in the foyer before tossing her purse (which _she_ would certainly never carry herself) on the small side table beside Deeks' keys. He's in the den, she assumes, so stifling a yawn, she lets herself drift in that direction, stopping just inside the open doorway. It takes her eyes a moment to adjust to the low light, but once they do, Kensi feels her lips curve upward in a slight smile at the scene before her.

An arm resting over his eyes, her partner naps on the couch, his chest rising and falling gently as he breathes. Whatever's on the screen before him, it's clearly been long forgotten and Kensi finds herself briefly fighting back the strange urge to tiptoe closer and switch the tv off before draping a blanket atop him.

What stops her, though, is the echo of the warnings imparted to her by her superior. Ridiculous warnings, right? It's not as if there's any danger of anything happening here, after all.

At least, nothing more than whatever is completely necessary to keep from breaking cover.

And really, whatever sparks she thinks she may be feeling (they can't _really_ be sparks, because that would simply be ridiculous), she's certain they'll fade once they're out of here, once they can officially drop this silly cover story and go back to being partners – nothing more, nothing less.

She hopes, anyway.

"Stop wondering if my body feels as good as it looks and come over here and see for yourself."

Kensi draws in a quick breath, startled by his quiet, knowing voice. Her first instinct is to slip quietly away without even acknowledging him…but then again, it's Deeks and Kensi knows beyond any doubt that she's been caught watching him. Or _admiring_ him, as she's certain her devious partner would argue. "How – how long have you been awake?" she asks softly.

She braces herself, somehow already knowing the answer seconds before the low rumble of his voice ever even reaches her ears. "I was never asleep," he replies, the corners of his lips twitching in amusement. "You know I can't sleep when you're not here…"

A ghost of a frown touches her lips – not at the words themselves, but at the rather odd feeling that rises up inside of her. It unsettles her because she's able to place a name to it immediately, right from the very moment it pierces her heart.

She blames the tranquility of the moment for the transient lowering of her guard; she blames the lateness of the hour and the low light in the den, the soft glow from the TV that illuminates her partner, sprawled out and relaxed on the couch. She blames the closeness involved in keeping their cover; she blames a moment just days before that she _refuses_ to recall, a moment that had left her stunned in the wake of this same, exact feeling.

Desire. Yearning. _Longing_.

His words are nothing more than what she should expect from him given their cover, and yet, they spark a flame somewhere deep inside her soul. And it's such a deep, heated burn, such a profound sense of desire that there's utterly no way she can ignore, no way to pretend it's anything other than what it truly is.

For a moment, she can't deny that it would be nice for those words to mean something. For him to _mean_ them. For those words to leave his lips (lips that – oh dear _God_ – she can't help but remember on hers, kissing her as if to stop would mean the end of it all) and flutter their way to her ears, spoken not by Justin, but by her partner. By Deeks. To _her_.

These are _such_ dangerous thoughts. Dangerous feelings, dangerous desires. And it's exactly what Callen had cautioned her about, exactly where he had found himself a time or two while undercover. Sometimes there comes a point when, even for the most seasoned agents, the reality begins to blur with the cover story. The lines begin to fade, choices are no longer black and white, instead falling into ambiguous shades of grey.

And despite her best efforts, that's exactly where Kensi finds herself, though she'll never admit that Callen was right. She'd thought this would be easy; she'd thought it would be nothing. After all, Deeks is her partner – her annoying, irritating, obnoxious partner and to be stuck with him nonstop for three full weeks should have her wanting to yank her hair out. There's no way she could _want_ this; no way she could _ever_ imagine wanting him. It's ridiculous.

And yet…

The dam breaks then, leaving Kensi defenseless against the memories that flood her mind; she's pulled underneath the cascade and all the struggle in the world wouldn't save her, she knows.

But oh, to drown here in the delicious memory of his strong arms around her, his heated body pressing against hers, pinning her to the side of the pool…the insistent hunger of his lips as he kissed her, the sharp spark as his teeth nipped at her lower lip. And the heat…oh the heat. It consumes her now just as readily as it had back then, and this time she's not blessed with the water to cool her down…no, this time, she burns.

_Oh_ how she burns for him.

She feels the intensity of his gaze upon her and realizes a moment too late that her silence has given her away. Melissa might have responded sweetly to him; Kensi would have laughed. But the lack of anything at all is all the window Deeks needs into the complicated web of her mind and when he speaks, despite the gentle endearment attached to the end, Kensi knows he's speaking as Deeks, not as Justin. "You okay, Princess?"

Kensi gives a half-shrug, feigning nonchalance. "I'm fine," she replies quietly. To admit what's truly on her mind would betray her cover, and even so, she doesn't particularly want her partner witnessing the images floating around in her head, thoughts she ponders far too frequently these days, no doubt due to the proximity to him that this assignment requires. Yeah, that's all it is – things will go back to normal when Justin and Melissa are neatly squared away in concise little files, boxed up in the archives room.

Deeks chuckles softly, but otherwise doesn't call her out on her standard reply. It's the final confirmation though that she's unsettled by something, and it doesn't take a genius to know exactly what that _something_ is. Especially since she's not the only one unsettled by it.

Unsettled doesn't quite give the feeling justice, he thinks – no matter what he does, he can't erase the memory. He can't stop replaying it over and over again in his head. And, perhaps most dangerous of all, he can't convince himself that it _shouldn't_ happen again.

He'd most definitely allowed it to go too far, that much is certain. What had started as a play for the cameras had quickly become a runaway train. Emotions had spiraled out of control and the logic behind his actions…well, that had been obliterated the moment his lips met hers.

It's been a couple of days, but to Deeks, it feels as if he's right back in that moment every time it plays through his head. He's been tested before; he's been face to face with angry kingpins and drug lords; he's had guns against his head, against his back; he's been pistol-whipped across the face a couple of times in the course of his shadowy career, but none of that has ever broken him. This though…for the first time in all his years of undercover assignments, Deeks thinks he may be in a bit over his head.

Usually, it's incredibly easy for him to abandon Marty Deeks and become whatever cover the current assignment requires. But now, his true identity doesn't want to be silenced. It doesn't want to be shoved away in favor of a cover that will mean nothing in a couple more weeks.

No, he wants this to be real.

_Deeks_ wants this to be real.

And that _terrifies _him.

It terrifies him for a number of reasons, but perhaps the most pressing reason at the moment, the one that's been haunting him for days, is the question of safety. _Her_ safety. He knows he could never live with himself if he selfishly broke cover and allowed himself to enjoy this, only for Kensi to pay for that selfish moment with her life.

He needs to keep Justin and Marty separate. He _needs_ to.

His feelings for his beautiful, badass partner, though? They say otherwise.

And oh, does he have feelings for her.

He can't even deny it anymore.

Swallowing hard, he tries to force those thoughts away. Tries to ignore how beautiful she looks standing in the darkened doorway, brow slightly creased as she thinks. Tries to ignore how badly he wants to thread his fingers through her hair, slightly tousled and out of place, likely teased gently by the breeze all day. Tries to forget how her body had felt pressed against him, soft and pliant, squirming slightly in his arms. And that kiss…

Yeah. He can't keep thinking about _that_. He _can't_.

Reaching for the remote on the coffee table, Deeks turns the volume on the TV down a bit, mostly just to occupy his hands for a moment. Something to distract him a bit. "So, uh, how was dinner? With your friend?"

"It was nice," Kensi answers quietly, her gaze dropping to the ground as the conversation with Callen comes back to her. "It was nice to catch up; we had a lot to talk about."

"Like your charming hubby, for example?" Deeks teases, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Despite the current state of her mind, Kensi can't help but grin slightly. "Actually, yeah…" She'll share the pertinent issues discussed at Ops tomorrow morning during breakfast, when a quick escape into the kitchen won't look suspicious to any prying eyes. But the quiet, secret conversation she'd had with Callen, far away from the ears of the others, well, that's not something she'll ever divulge to her partner. But that doesn't mean she can't tease him. "You know us. We like to trade secrets."

"Only good ones, I assume."

"You can think that if you want, sure."

He smirks. "Well, either way," he begins, stretching slowly on the couch. "I missed my beautiful wife today."

She doesn't know why, but something about the words (or maybe it's the reverence in his tone…or the memory of a certain kiss that once again splashes into her thoughts) sparks a bit of heat in her cheeks. Suddenly she's grateful for the evening shadows that mask the color she's certain is there, because she knows he'd tease her forever about it. Lifting a hand, she brushes her hair back from her face, tucking it gently behind her ears. "Oh really?"

"Oh yeah." He nods. "I didn't know what to do with myself all day. I mean, no fires in the kitchen to put out, no overflowing washing machines filling the entire laundry room with bubbles, no damsels in distress to save…"

Kensi rolls her eyes as he recounts her struggles playing a housewife. It's _not_ something she's cut out for; she'll be the first to admit that. But Kensi's certain she more than makes up for it in all other areas (most notably the ability to beat her partner-slash-fake husband at any and _every_ competition). "Yeah, must have been hard to take a break from being the hero," she retorts dryly, a slight smile tugging at her lips.

"_Your_ hero," he corrects smugly. Kensi opens her mouth to protest, but Deeks doesn't let her. "And hey, somebody's gotta do it. Turns out that I'm the best man for the job."

A quiet snort of laughter escapes her lips. "If that's the case, then we're _all_ doomed."

"Doomed to fall for my charm every single time?" With that, Deeks flashes her a grin that accelerates her heart, even in the relative darkness of the den. "Don't deny it, sugar pop, all I have to do is whisper in your ear and your knees go weak."

"My knees are weak right now only because I'm exhausted and just want to go to bed," Kensi says, lifting a hand as if to stifle a yawn. "Trust me, it has _nothing_ to do with you."

That's a lie, but wisely Deeks chooses not to call her out on it. Instead, he shifts on the couch a bit, making a bit of room beside him. With an inviting smile, he lightly pats the spot next to him. "If you're exhausted, come cuddle with your sexy hubby." The bemused look she gives him is all Kensi, definitely not Melissa, and Deeks can't help but chuckle. "There's a marathon of that cop show on that you like," he says, cocking his head toward the screen. "Thought we could watch together."

He's _got _to know how very difficult she finds it to say no to him – knows it, _and_ uses it quite frequently to his advantage. Clearly this time is no different, because despite her exhaustion, despite the fact that she _knows_ the best way to clear her mind would be a hot bubble bath with two locked doors between herself and the man on the couch, she finds her bare feet carrying her toward him. "Oh, you mean the one with the hot detective?" she asks innocently, glancing to the tv.

Deeks smirks. "Oh yeah," he agrees. "That's right. But I don't think _she's_ your type."

Kensi bites her lip to fight back her smile. "Funny," she retorts, perching on the arm of the couch.

"I mean, look at her," he continues, gesturing lazily at the screen. "She's _hot_. But your type…" He pauses for a moment, letting his eyes roam unabashedly over his partner just mere feet away from him. "You're just naturally drawn to the quiet, artistic type. Quiet artist with a tortured soul."

"Oh really."

"You want to save my beautiful soul from the demons within."

"Do you try to charm all the girls with that line?"

"It obviously worked on the one who matters."

She snorts, but otherwise doesn't reply. For a moment, she forces herself to ignore him and watch the episode playing out on screen – she'd swear it's one of her favorites, but at the moment, she can't seem to place it.

And it's a futile attempt too, because soon she's finding her gaze drawn back to her partner; momentarily, she's struck by just how at home he looks. Sprawled on his back, one arm behind his head and the other draped lazily across his chest, he's the picture of quiet contentment. His lips curve in a small smile and his eyes, oh those deep ocean eyes – it crosses Kensi's mind then that there's never been a more beautiful shade of blue. When this is over, she's going to miss waking up to those eyes.

_No_. Forcibly she shoves that errant thought away – it's simply not allowed. Especially not now, after what had happened in the pool… She shivers just at the thought, and that's plenty enough reason to stop this runaway train before it goes any farther.

Her quiet admiration of him doesn't go unnoticed, much to her chagrin. "You're staring at me again, babe," Deeks teases softly, his grin widening as the endearment falls from his lips. He doesn't even try to bite it back – then again, he hasn't since this fake marriage began, so perhaps she'd been delusional to think that a heated kiss in the pool would push him back behind the boundaries again.

Kensi exhales sharply, ignoring as much as she can the tingle of warmth in her cheeks. "Am _not_," she argues, rolling her eyes as if just the idea is ridiculous. She's about to add a cheeky retort when she remembers where they are and who they're supposed to be. The annoyance simmers quietly within her; if there's one thing she'll be glad for once this is over, it'll be the simple fact that finally, _finally_ she'll be able to harass him as her partner again.

Playing his adoring wife for all hours of the day is simply _exhausting._

Especially when he's _obviously_ having way too much fun with it. "Yes you were," he persists, playfully nudging her calf with his toes. "You're like a starving lion eyeing its prey. You want to _devour_ me, my perpetually hungry little tiger."

"Don't be silly," she retorts, flashing him an overly-sweet grin. "You'd give me a stomachache."

"_Oh_." Slowly he pulls himself upright, dramatically placing a palm over his heart. "That hurts."

"Oh, you big baby."

"But irresistible, yeah?" Reaching forward, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and tugs gently. "Don't you even try to say I'm not, honey bunches."

"Please," Kensi scoffs, unable to fully hide her smile. "You're about as irresistible as fungus."

He tugs again, but this time with enough force to pull Kensi off balance. With a quiet yelp, she tumbles off the arm of the couch and into her partner's lap. "See?" he says, ignoring her retort, "you can't stay away from me."

He takes the chance to loop his arms around her as he lays back, bringing her with him. She squirms a bit, but her struggling really only shifts her into the space between her partner and the back of the couch, effectively trapping her in his arms. "I didn't have much of a choice there, did I?" she scoffs, though her eyes sparkle as she tries to glare down at him.

"Of course you did." He grins, tracing a fingertip over the cool metal encircling her ring finger. "And I believe you said yes. Can't blame you, I'd say yes to my charm too…"

"That's because you think you're a god or something," Kensi quips.

He can't help it; oh God, he can't help it - when she gives him an opportunity like that, he _has_ to take it. "Well, that _is_ what you call me, most nights…"

He definitely deserves the elbow to the stomach he gets. "You want to sleep on the couch tonight, don't you, funny boy?"

Deeks just grins. "You think I'm funny. I knew it."

Kensi groans. "You're hopeless."

"You _love_ me."

Rolling her eyes, Kensi doesn't reply. It's the easiest way to end this – even if it does mean letting him have the last word. Instead, she settles against him, resigned to her fate; she knows he's not letting her go that easily.

And if she's honest with herself, that actually makes her smile. Suddenly, this moment belongs less to Justin and Melissa, and more to Kensi and Deeks – this is one of their _things_, apparently. This isn't the first time she's found herself on the couch with him, watching tv like this as if it's the most natural thing in the world – and for them, it is. She can think of several nights, without even trying, where they've fallen asleep together like this after pizza and beer, or ice cream, or doughnuts, or whatever her partner decided to pick up on the way to her place. It's always the same – junk food, playful teasing, a movie or some bad reality tv.

And he's always there in the mornings, too.

She thinks, for a brief second, that he might be the most reliable man she's ever had in her life.

And then she closes that train of thought down, because thoughts like that always drift into territory she's _still_ not comfortable exploring. Not yet.

Before those thoughts have a chance to become anything more than wispy fragments in her imagination, the sound of her partner's voice pulls her back into the present moment. "So tell me about dinner," he suggests quietly.

To anyone else, he's just a curious husband, genuinely inquiring about his wife's day. But between the two of them, it's Deeks' only real way of asking what Kensi had gleaned from her check-in at Ops…the check-in she'd _refused_ to let him go with her. He'd known why; it'd made sense to him, so he hadn't fought it. Still, he didn't really like the implication behind it – she didn't want to be with him when they could break cover, which meant she likely wanted to forget all the line-crossing they've done in this house (and _damn_, there's been a lot). For the moment, though, he lets it go.

In the very beginning, back when this op was still in the planning stages, the two of them had developed a system of codes, codes that would come in handy during moments like this. Moments where they couldn't speak as Kensi and Deeks; moments where they couldn't just abruptly dart out to a safe area to talk. No, that would be too suspicious at the moment.

It's that system of code that Kensi uses when she starts to speak, but merely a few minutes later, she comes to a quick halt as another idea flashes brightly in her mind. It's a dangerous idea, one that she should simply shake her head and dismiss, but for some reason…she doesn't.

There's _got_ to be something about the darkness, she surmises. It has to be that, because as twisted as her thoughts and emotions are after what had happened just a couple days ago, there is _no_ good reason why the idea that sparks in her mind should have her heart accelerating and electricity flickering through her body. No. Just no.

And yet, that's _exactly_ what it does.

This is quite possibly the _worst_ idea she's ever had.

…Or perhaps it's the best. Callen would _not_ approve, but Kensi…at the moment, well, she's wondering why she'd never thought of it before.

Truth is, she doesn't _have_ to speak in code at all.

Not if she gets…_close_.

And really, isn't it _her_ turn to raise the bar anyway?

It crosses her mind just briefly how incredibly dangerous this is. How _reckless. _Stealing his shirt had been one thing – it'd been one hell of a wild stunt, certainly, but there had been an ample amount of space between them during those long, heated moments. She'd been in control of it.

But this…this is entirely different because now, Kensi can feel the heat of his body against hers; it's innocent, nothing like the last time his body had pressed against hers (_oh dear God)_ but still…it's there. He's there and she's in his arms, nestled snugly between his toned body and the back of the couch and really, there is _nowhere_ to go. If he turns this around on her, if he steals the upper hand from her as easily as he'd teased the strings of her bikini top free, she's trapped. Completely and utterly trapped.

Tonight, the realization _thrills_ her.

She remembers with striking clarity just how he'd been able to reduce her to a quivering, boneless heap with just his mouth, just his kisses.

And now…she's going to do the same to him, Callen's warnings be damned.

So she shifts against him, slowly and deliberately, making sure he feels every tiny motion of her body against his (though she convinces herself that she's making it look _real_ just in case they're being watched. Of course).

There's a split second where she hesitates, just one tiny second where all the risks and warnings and admonishments flash through her mind like lightning, but in the end, Kensi pays them no heed because no matter what lines she knows she's crossing here, she's most certainly _not_ going to be the loser in this game they've created, this game of discovering exactly where the boundaries lie and then jumping exactly one step beyond them. Just a single second, a moment where time seems to slow and all that matters is his intoxicating scent, strong and masculine as she draws in a deep breath; all that matters is the sure, steady beat of his heart beneath her palm on his chest; all that matters is this _feeling_ that consumes her, this feeling that tugs at her, coaxing her gently toward surrender, toward _him_.

She might have planned out this little scheme (albeit rather quickly); she might have rationalized it as the easiest way to keep cover while sharing pertinent information with her partner that otherwise she wouldn't be able to share until tomorrow. But as she closes her eyes and slowly, oh-so-gently presses her lips to his neck, Kensi can't ignore the flutter in her belly, the voice in the back of her mind that whispers her deepest, most secret desire.

Deep down, behind all the walls and triple-locked doors, she wishes this wasn't just a moment cloaked within their cover story.

Part of her, and far more of her than she can even _try_ to deny, wishes this were _real_.

And that part of her utterly _aches_ for this – for these feelings she'd thought she'd never feel again, this closeness, this…this _connection_. Their thing. No matter how many times they try to deny it, there is most certainly a _thing_.

To deny it after that intense display of aquatic mischief is simply not possible.

And she doesn't even try to. Instead, she focuses on the way her partner tenses as her lips tease his throat, the way he gasps softly in surprise, obviously not expecting her soft yet deliberate kisses. That's his own damn fault, she thinks – she's never given him reason to think she's at all predictable, after all.

So she doesn't stop, doesn't even hesitate when he whispers her name. Not her cover name, not Melissa, but a quiet, breathy _"Kens_" that's solely for her own ears. It brings a smile to her lips as her kisses settle for a moment over his quickened pulse. Feeling emboldened, a little more daring, Kensi parts her lips and flicks her tongue playfully against his skin, more than just a little pleased when he swallows heavily.

Above his heart, her fingers curl slowly in the material of his tee. That's more instinct than anything else; it's not supposed to be part of her game here but she makes no effort to stop it. Nuzzling against him softly, Kensi hums quietly, urging him gently to grant her more access. He does without her asking twice; as he does, his own fingertips drift to her spine and lightly dance their way along the length of it; he's delighted when she shivers against him.

Her kisses continue along his neck; she pauses only to nip devilishly at a spot just beneath his jaw. He groans quietly, and despite the control she's determined to maintain, the sound goes right to the pit of her belly, stoking a slowly simmering fire. It's only when her mouth reaches his scruffy jaw that she reminds herself of the point of all of this. Parting her lips, she exhales slowly, letting her breath tease his skin as she whispers, her words low and breathy, detectable by only his ears. "Eric…Eric says we can rule out a few of the neighbors," she murmurs, pausing just once in the middle to press her lips to his jaw.

It takes a moment for her words to sink into the clouded depths of his mind. He _hears_ her, certainly, but it's almost as if she's speaking a foreign language. At the moment, Deeks is captivated by the velvety caress of his partner's lips along his jaw, the warmth of her breath, the feel of her body against his. His palm splays slowly over her back, almost as if to prove that she's really there, that this isn't just some wild fantasy cooked up by his imagination.

And yet, it's _not_ real, because once her words finally register, he knows _exactly_ what game she's playing and it's the same game he'd played and conquered her at mere days before. If he's honest, though, he'd never expected her to try and turn the tables on him again. He'd never expected it because one look into her eyes after that heated moment had revealed with _nothing_ held back just how shaken she'd been. And truly, he'd been just as unsettled, if not more.

Deeks _hadn't_ expected the wave of emotion that had pulled him so swiftly under. If he's honest, well, he's had feelings for his partner for awhile now, but this…the pounding of his heart and the _yearning_ he'd felt as he'd parted from her – it'd caught him off guard. _Completely_ off guard.

And all the control he'd _thought_ he'd had…well, it was as good as gone.

He can't imagine their rela – _partnership – _without the banter, without the flirting. But in light of that kiss, Deeks had quietly decided to pull back, to respect the boundaries a little more because continuing to barge through them like he's been doing, like _they've_ been doing since Minister Hetty pronounced them fake husband and wife…it can only end explosively.

He'd never _dreamed _she'd keep playing. And yet…

There _had_ been a camera by the pool. Deeks had seen it with his own eyes. And while maybe he hadn't necessarily _needed_ to lock lips with Kensi to sell their cover, it had certainly cemented it. This…well, it's just unnecessary and Deeks feels a smirk tug at his lips. He knows what she's doing; he knows she thinks she's found a clever way to share case information with him without breaking their cover.

The flaw in that logic, however, is that she could have simply called him into the kitchen to discuss the particulars of the case.

Kensi's whispering again, soft, breathy murmurs that he thinks are supposed to be divulging important information, but how is he supposed to focus on that when her words are separated by tiny, fluttery kisses? "He said that uh, the house at the end of the street? The Bakers? They check out alright…"

She flutters her tongue against a spot just beneath his ear and Deeks can't even try to hold back the low groan that escapes his lips. "Aren't they…wait…who were they?"

He feels her smile against him as she continues. "She's the teacher, third grade, remember? And her husband's a pharmacist – we'd looked at him, in the beginning, but Eric says there's no drug angle to this case. They're just regular, everyday innocent citizens." As if to emphasize her point, Kensi gently nips at his skin. "Like us."

"You're anything _but_ innocent," he breathes.

She hums quietly in response, and Deeks can't fight the shiver that races down his spine. She's _killing_ him, utterly killing him, and all she's doing is reciting case info. Well, with kisses. And nibbles. And _oh_, little sounds like _that_ that go straight to the pit of his stomach and suddenly, he's wishing he _hadn't_ tormented her quite so much in the pool that day because this…well, it's the perfect payback.

And one thing's for sure, as she pauses in her description of some other neighbor in some other house somewhere (he doesn't know because he's not really listening anymore - couldn't if he tried) to suckle at the sensitive skin above the pulse point in his throat: she's absolutely going to kill him.

It's a deliriously _agonizing_ time later when Kensi's finally divulged all of the intel, and Deeks is certain he's retained _none_ of it. By then, every fiber of his being is crying out for her; he's utterly surrounded by her. Her scent, her voice, her playful giggle as he tenses under the devilry of her lips.

At some point, a wandering hand had drifted its way underneath his shirt, skating and splaying over toned, hard muscle. The deliberate touch of her fingertips is like fire to his torso, a small taste of how her body would feel pressed against him, no barriers in between. It makes him shiver, but it's when her lips wrap suggestively around his earlobe that he wonders just how far she intends to take this. His Kensi is competitive, scarily so, and she's seeming pretty determined here.

So, despite every fiber of his being that's screaming at him to stay silent, to weave his fingers in her hair and lose himself in the moment, Deeks swallows hard and summons his voice, the low, gravelly words leaving his lips on a slow exhale. "Now – now I see why you wanted to go to bed early, Peaches…"

She rolls her eyes at his comment; he thinks he's so clever. But there's a slight hitch in his voice, subtle and just barely there; were there more distance between them, Kensi thinks she might have missed it. It's there, though, and there's no mistaking it.

It's there, and she's _thrilled_ by it.

So thrilled that she lets her racing heart make all the decisions for her. Deviously, she lets her fingers drift upward, tracing small, random patterns on his chest. It's ridiculously intimate; hell, this whole ruse has been ridiculously intimate, perhaps too much so, but then again, it's all in the interest of keeping the cover.

It's all just a game, after all.

_Isn't it?_

It most certainly is (she reminds herself for what has to be the thousandth time), and tonight she's determined to win. She's determined to leave him just as shaken as he'd left her. Besides, it's all for the benefit of the cameras. It doesn't _mean_ anything – it just proves that she's just as good at the undercover work as he is. Better, even.

Yeah, she's definitely better. She'll prove it. "Of course that's why…" she purrs, pure seduction woven into her voice. "I wanted you so bad when I got home." Pausing for a beat, she tilts her head and nuzzles gently into the crook of his neck before grinning and adding his name – just his cover name. "_Justin_."

"Wanted," he repeats, somewhat dazed. Her lips against his throat, Kensi smiles – he'd picked up on _exactly_ the word she'd hoped he'd hear. "You – you said _wanted."_

"I did," she agrees on a heavy sigh. "But now…" She pauses and shifts against him, settling her body more into the space between him and the back of the couch. Lifting her head, Kensi watches the confusion cloud his eyes. Her palm finds his stubbled cheek and pats it gently; that and the devilish glimmer of victory in her eyes is all the celebration she allows herself at the moment. "Now I'm _tired_, babe. I think I just want to watch tv now."

With that, she smirks and settles against him, resting her head on his shoulder. She feels the rise and fall of his chest, quick at first, but slowly gradually, and Kensi can't help but smile – few things are better than throwing Marty Deeks out of his element.

One of those things, though, is his admission of just that. Well, a roundabout sort of admission, anyway, but Kensi will take it. "You are _bold_, Agent Blye," he whispers into her hair after awhile, his voice for her ears only. "

There's something in the way he whispers her name that sparks the heat deep in her belly, but for now, she does all she can to quell that. The exhaustion truly is beginning to win now, and she knows she'll never sleep if she doesn't silence the confusion, the mixed emotions ambushing her from all directions.

So for now, she lets her scruffy partner wrap an arm around her; she lets him reach up and pull the blanket down from the back of the couch and drape it over the both of them. She picks a spot in on the distant wall, up above the flicker of the tv screen and focuses in on it as she clears her mind, as she tries to convince herself that this is just another night of surrendering to bad tv and exhaustion on her own living room couch. That's all this is, really.

It's just them, as they always are. Playful, yet caring, always competitive.

And, as far as competition goes, Kensi drifts into sleep feeling that she's back on top.

…But then again, with her head tucked beneath Deeks' chin, she never sees the smirk that tugs at his lips. She may think she's clever, and truly, she may have knocked him incredibly off-kilter with her answer to his kisses in the pool, but truly, he's still got the advantage here.

Tomorrow - after she's had ample time to think about her actions tonight - should be an _excellent_ time to let his bold, playful Kensi know that while she was gone, he'd performed a thorough sweep of the den and can say with absolute certainty that the entire room is bug-free. No cameras, no audio. Just them.

He probably could have pointed that out earlier, Deeks thinks. Perhaps, before she'd gotten oh so involved in her seductive little game...

_Nah_.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	8. eight

Sunshine stings Kensi's eyes as she slowly pushes back the sheer curtains covering the bay window in the den. She stretches, feeling her body protest the movement – especially her back. A grimace darkens her features as a sharp pain shoots through her spine; she's used to sleeping on the couch, having fallen asleep there during many a late night TV marathon…but that's _her_ couch. She doesn't wake up with every inch of her body aching at home.

Of course, part of that may have something to do with the man she'd shared the couch with last night. Draped somewhat over him, her body pressed tightly to his; in the confined space there on the couch, it hadn't exactly been the most comfortable of arrangements…and yet, she hadn't really wanted to move. Despite her aching muscles, Kensi thinks she might have been content to stay there.

She'd awoken slowly, somewhat disoriented. It had taken her a moment to realize exactly where she was, and why. Her mind had been hazy, preoccupied mostly with the signals her aching muscles had been sending to her brain. For a few moments, she'd been still, eyes closed, breath steady as she tried to recall the last thing she remembered from the night before. Her cheeks had tinted as the memories flooded her; in the late morning sunlight, her actions the night before seemed so much bolder than they had under the cover of darkness. But even more than that is the tug of desire in the pit of her stomach she'd felt last night as she'd pressed kiss after kiss to his throat, his jaw; that tug of desire she'd felt as his hands had begun to play as well, teasing their way beneath thin fabric barriers and encountering the heated skin hidden underneath; the same tug of desire she'd felt as her own fingers explored and touched and caressed, just as thoroughly as the devilish dance of her mouth on his skin.

And oh, it's that same tug of desire, the same delicious heat curling deep inside of her as she thinks that maybe, just maybe, she might have allowed it to go even further.

A deep shiver courses through her body at the thought. But before her imagination has the chance to run wild, she feels him. She feels him slip silently into the space behind her at the window, the heat of his body teasing her, taunting her, reminding her of the warmth she'd left behind in choosing to extricate herself in the interest of working the ache out of her muscles.

She tries to focus on the neighbors outside as they go about their morning routines – old Mrs. Bracken working in her garden across the street, Kara Peterson going for her morning run, Brob (Bob and Rob, Kensi corrects herself – if her mind adopts Deeks' silly nickname for them, it's only a matter of time before it slips from her lips and she just _can't_ have that) walking their dog, a few other neighbors here and there. Simple observation for the case…and yet, it ceases to be simple at all when she feels her partner's arms snake around her middle, his quiet, rumbling voice just millimeters from her ear. "Morning, Princess…"

"Hey," Kensi replies softly, glad she's not facing him because the smile that plays at her lips isn't one she can push back. "I thought you were still asleep…"

He snickers. "I think someone needs to be recertified in Stealth Escape Technique."

Kensi rolls her eyes. "That's not a course and you know it."

"Yeah, well, clearly it _should_ be." He smirks. "I think you ruptured my spleen with that elbow of yours. And let's not even mention all the bruises I'm going to have from you crawling all over me. Not even I could sleep through _that_."

She doesn't even try to find sympathy for his exaggerations. "Big baby."

Deeks just chuckles, ignoring that as he nuzzles against her neck. "I take it you slept well, yeah?" He doesn't have to ask, not after spending yet another night with her snoring in his ear, but he does anyway.

Kensi nods slowly, unable to stop the tiny gasp that issues from her mouth as his lips press to her jaw, just beneath her ear. And she can feel his smirk against her skin, that little, devious smirk that goes straight to her belly and oh God, these feelings she has are drifting so far beyond the outer boundary of danger. She should have recognized it last night; should have recognized it when she'd been the one leaving him stunned and speechless with the fluttery dance of kisses to his skin; should have recognized it when she found herself wanting to do _more_. She _should_ have realized it when waking up in his arms every morning started to feel nice; should have realized it when she started craving his arms around her every night before she closes her eyes.

And oh, just how very dangerous this is. With each passing day, they're pushing this farther than before, and Kensi knows he realizes it just as much as she does. They've always done this – this flirting, this teasing. But playing husband and wife...it's almost as if it gives them the freedom to push their _thing_ that extra inch. Almost as if it gives them the freedom to leave safety behind and put their hands right into the fire.

She _knows_ what she should do. She _should_ laugh at his antics now, his teasing kisses to her jaw. She should laugh at him and squirm her way out of his arms; she should dart away from him before he can…before he can do whatever he's managing to do to her. So that's exactly what she plans to do – laugh quietly at his next utterly lame quip (she knows there's one coming – it's _Deeks, _there's _always_ a lame joke right around the bend) and twist her way out of his grasp, ignoring the urge to sink back into him again.

Because God, these feelings…she can't have this. Kensi can't let herself begin to associate how well she rests at night with just how quickly and how snugly his arms sneak their way around her in sleep. She can't begin to think that moments like this - this moment that's clearly meant to get back at her for her audacity the night before – are the moments in which she feels most at ease.

She can't deny that she appreciates him. Can't deny that she cares about him, that there's no one else she'd rather have as her partner, despite how infuriating he can be at times. She's grown to love having him around; knows there's not a single person she'd ever trust more to have her back, both in the field and out.

But this case, this constant teasing, the neverending push-and-pull, waiting to see which one of them breaks first? She hates to admit it, even silently to herself, but she thinks she's almost to that point. Kensi can't think of the pool without feeling a burst of heat to her cheeks; can't think of the kitchen or the bathroom or the laundry room or even the den now without feeling this ache within her chest, this deep, lonely ache that being with him seems to soothe.

And yet, at the same time, the memories spark a fire in her belly, and oh God if her mind hasn't wandered at least once to what might have happened if he'd gone a step or two further in the pool; if maybe she'd gone a step further with him (and oh, it's becoming harder and harder to resist it, truly.)

But it's just ridiculous.

She _doesn't_ want him like that.

She _can't_. Can't, because he's her partner and this is just a game and once this assignment is over, they'll go back to them. Kensi and Deeks, merely partners.

And her partner, just her partner, would certainly never nuzzle her throat the way Deeks is doing, his mouth devilishly setting her skin aflame as he alternates slow kisses with quick nibbles, a rhythm designed to make her whimper quietly and tilt her head for him, silently pleading for more. Oh _God_, more.

He's driving her _insane_.

And _damn it_ if she doesn't love every last second of it.

His fingertips tease their way underneath the hem of her top, ghosting briefly, almost experimentally over her taut belly. Her muscles quiver beneath his touch, and Deeks can't help but grin against her. "Butterflies?" he murmurs, the delicious scratch of his scruff against sensitive skin drawing a low, quick moan from Kensi's lips. She can't hide it, really; she tries, but there's no way Deeks could have missed that sound.

She tries to retort; tries to summon anything at all to her lips, but then his are closing devilishly over her racing pulse and – oh God – her mind clears of everything but sensation, everything but desire, desire that burns even hotter with promises and secret fantasies of this, this, this forbidden fruit that she's so not allowed to taste.

She has, though, and God if it isn't the sweetest thing she's ever tasted.

She may have no idea what game he thinks he's playing right now; she may have no earthly idea as to just what he's trying to accomplish here…but the visions he's putting in her head right now, visions he shouldn't be allowed to put there…

God. This assignment needs to end.

It needs to before something happens…

Something more than everything that's already happened.

Something they can't take back.

Kensi flicks her tongue over her lips, her mind searching almost frantically for words, any words. It's hard though, oh so very hard when all she wants to do is arch against him, letting him take whatever he wants because she's pretty sure right now that she wants the same thing.

But they _can't_.

At least, that's what she keeps repeating to herself over and over again. Forcing her eyes open, Kensi tries to focus more on the people outside than on the person right behind her, his mouth and his hands slowly seducing her, driving her slowly, so slowly out of her mind. "You – you know, you're really putting on a show for the neighbors," she manages to choke out, shivering as she feels the sharp sting of teeth as he nibbles at her jaw. She _knows_ he feels it, knows by the sound of his chuckle, low and deep and gravelling at her ear. He feels it…and oh, how he's enjoying every last second of it. She can feel that in his smile, the curve of his lips on her throat.

His arms tighten around her middle, strong muscles enveloping her, putting sultry visions in her imagination, sultry visions that have her biting back a moan, heat rising in her cheeks. He's _killing_ her as they stand here and she's damn sure he knows it as he growls quietly against her skin. "I bet we could put on an even better one…"

_God_. She shudders _hard_ at his implication, whispers dripping with seduction and heat. For a moment, she's one hundred percent certain he's getting her back for her game of kisses and touches the night before…and she's also one hundred percent certain that he's winning. He's winning because she can barely think with his lips and the scratch of his scruff tickling her skin, with the heat and the strength of his body behind her, supporting her as her knees wobble beneath this unexpected onslaught of sensation. She swallows hard as his thumb dares to breach the hem of her tank top, just barely grazing the smooth skin hidden underneath. "Deeks…" she warns softly, and oh, she's never been quite this damn torn before. He _has_ to stop, but that's not _really_ what she wants…

He smirks and plants a playful kiss to her tinted cheek. "Who says I meant _that_ kind of show?"

She nearly laughs out loud at the feigned innocence in his quiet, simple question. "There's no other kind of show that _you_ could have possibly meant," she scolds him playfully. "I _know_ that vivid, overactive imagination of yours – there's only one place it ever goes."

"And yet, you're no angel yourself, Agent Blye…" Deeks all but purrs, nipping lightly at the skin just over her collarbone, sending yet another shockwave of heat spiraling through her body. She gasps, her mind not even registering that he's freely and unabashedly using her true name. "Enjoy it while you can, my little devil. Won't be long before you have to start setting a better example."

She's about to call him out on his latest little nickname for her when his hand splays possessively over her stomach, almost protectively. Confused, her mind just a few steps behind his, it's not until he speaks again that Kensi puts the pieces together. "When you left me here all alone yesterday, I got bored," he murmurs, the heat of his breath teasing her already warm cheek. "I thought about going for a run, but…I ended up doing some socializing instead. Met some more of the neighbors."

"Deeks…"

He ignores her, though his lips curve in a smile. "Old Mrs. Bracken over there in her garden? She invited me in for a glass of iced tea and a _fantastic_ brownie. She'd just finished making a plate of them for her grandkids who were coming to visit. She showed me pictures and everything. And uh, I got a bit…carried away with the moment," he says, pausing for a beat. "I, uh, might have let our good news slip…"

Kensi stiffens. "Our – our good news?"

He smirks, and Kensi can practically feel the glee radiating off of him. He is having way too much fun with this. His other arm snakes leisurely around her middle and as his hands meet over her flat belly, Deeks laces his fingers together, feeling his partner stiffen a bit more in his arms. "Half you, half me…the perfect little bundle of joy we've been trying for since our honeymoon."

_He did not_.

Her eyes snap open, blinking for a moment in the sunlight. For a moment, she doesn't quite know how to counter that – part of her is stunned speechless, while the rest of her is trying to process what he _actually_ said…because she _can't_ have heard him correctly.

No.

He _wouldn't_ have gone there.

…But that's exactly why he _would_ have.

Oh _God_. "Did – did you now." It's not really a question, but all the same, she feels a block of icy dread drop into her stomach in anticipation of the answer. Why – _why_ would he _do_ that? She knows he's heard Sam and Callen both say that the point of a cover story is to _simplify_ life, not complicate it. Clearly, though, the words went in one of her partner's ears and then straight out the other.

Deeks chuckles. "I know, I know…" he sighs, trying but failing – failing _miserably_ – to sound at least a tiny bit apologetic. "I know you wanted to keep it our little secret for a little while longer, but…" He shrugs. "I just couldn't help it."

His amusement is clear in his voice and Kensi ignores the urge to elbow him in the stomach. Her eyes follow the old lady in question as she retrieves her morning paper at the end of her driveway. "And this just…came up in the conversation?"

"Well, yeah," Deeks replies innocently. "I mean, she was talking about her grandkids – they're ten, five, and three – and I just…_had_ to. Besides, you know it's important to get to know your neighbors, babydoll."

"They're not _our_ neighbors," she hisses. "We don't _live_ here."

Deeks' grin widens. "Well, for now, we do," he says, knowing it's true both for Justin and Melissa, and himself and Kensi. And as their true identities, one of their objectives for the case _is_ in fact to learn about the neighbors. "I was just trying to be friendly," he says. Tilting his head downward, he lowers his voice, his next words a whisper only for Kensi's ears. "Don't you think it might raise some eyebrows if we only chatted up the ones we were suspicious of, instead of getting to know everyone?"

He's got a point; that she can't deny. But that doesn't mean she's not still going to kill him when this is done and over with.

Deeks hears her sigh heavily as she relaxes against him, surrendering this battle to him. She knows he's right – and oh how he loves that. "You might be interested to know that she thinks we'll have a _gorgeous_ baby," he murmurs, planting a kiss to her cheek. "'Course, she may have just been trying to hit on your gorgeous husband…"

Kensi snorts. "Not everyone is trying to hit on you."

"Well, most people know I'm already yours."

She tries to ignore the flutter in her chest at his words, the utter charm in his voice. Kensi can tease and taunt him all she wants, but at the end of the day, even she can't deny that her partner _does_ know how to charm the ladies. Even her, though she's not about to admit that to him. Her gaze finds his hands, clasped together above her belly; she shakes her head and sighs quietly, resigning herself to this additional layer to their cover. It's not like she has a choice anyway. "Sometimes I think I want to kill you," she murmurs, despite the tiny smile that tugs at the corners of her lips.

"Liar," he teases, playfully swaying her a bit in his arms. "Think about it, though. A beautiful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed little angel growing right…" He pauses, grinning as he gently pats her belly. "In here."

"Yeah, well, you do realize that blonde and blue genes are recessive, don't you?" she quips.

He chuckles. "Ah, my little cuddlebear, you underestimate the strength of my genes," he whispers. "But if you wanna make a whole houseful of babies to see who's right, well, as your loving, generous husband, I could only say yes."

"Yeah, well, if my loving, generous husband doesn't learn when to shut his mouth, he might just find himself lacking the parts to make that houseful of babies."

Deeks clucks his tongue, quickly pressing two teasing fingertips to her lips. "Nuh-uh, dollface," he chides her playfully, dropping his voice to a mere whisper as he continues. "You'll want to be more careful with that mouth of yours - Little Fern can hear you when you threaten her Daddy."

_Little Fern?_

_Really? _

If _that_ didn't seal his fate, the gleeful laugh he gives as her jaw drops most certainly does.

Marty Deeks is _so_ dead at the end of this assignment.

* * *

Over breakfast, Kensi had found out that Mrs. Bracken wasn't the only neighbor Deeks had been getting to know. After leaving her place, he'd run into Kara Peterson, a young, pretty blonde who had grown up with everything and had inherited a large sum of money after the death of her father. _"Her boyfriend just proposed a few days ago and she was all too eager to show off that rock on her hand, like she was begging me to insist I'd done a better job," _Deeks had said.

To Kensi's mild chagrin, that conversation had ended with an invitation, one that finds her spending her evening entertaining Kara and her fiancé, Nathan. Dinner and dessert had come and gone (she thinks maybe that's the one thing she'll miss when this op is over – her partner's skills in the kitchen), and now Kensi finds herself in the den, listening to the two of them animatedly share the story of how exactly Nathan had proposed.

She's just beginning to wonder where Deeks has disappeared to when he glides almost effortlessly back into the den at the end of Nathan's story, a tray with four glass flutes in his hands. "I think this calls for a celebration," he says, nodding to their guests. With a smile dancing upon his lips and a glimmer in his eyes, he sets the tray gently on the coffee table before taking two of the flutes and offering them to Kara and Nathan. "Champagne, for the newly engaged. And…"

He pauses, his smile widening as he takes the other two glasses, offering one to his partner as he sits beside her, wrapping his free arm around her then and drawing her into him. "Sparkling water with lemon for my beautiful Melissa…and my Little Fern."

Kensi nearly chokes. It takes her a moment to catch up with him again; God, how she hates when he changes the game on her like this, when he changes their plan. And really, she should have _seen_ this coming, after the words _Little Fern_ had first come from his lips that morning. She _should_ have prepared for this; should have known Deeks would want some way to compete with their newly engaged neighbors, and what better way to do that than to be one step ahead of them with a little one on the way?

Deeks looks at her apologetically, gently rubbing her back as she composes herself. "Sorry, Princess," he murmurs, leaning in and pressing his lips tenderly to her temple. "I keep forgetting that you don't want to share that yet." Theatrically, he glances to Kara and Nathan, his bright blue eyes sheepish. "Me, though…I just want to shout it from the rooftops."

Despite herself, Kensi feels a small smile tug at her lips. "Might as well, at this point," she says softly, her own arm snaking around his back. "Considering you've told the whole neighborhood now."

Deeks smirks. "Not the _whole_ neighborhood," he corrects her playfully. "Yet, anyway."

"Men can never keep secrets," Kara says, sharing a grin with Kensi.

"Guess not," Kensi agrees with a shrug. "But I love him anyway."

"Aww, you two are so cute," Kara coos. "So, go back to the beginning – you have _got_ to tell us how he proposed!"

It's all Kensi can do not to scoff – despite clearly wanting her proposal story to be the better of the two, Kara's still a typical romantic, no doubt expecting a story about how Justin swept Melissa off of her feet and carried her off into the sunset, seducing her with promises of the future they would make together. And while Kensi's got nothing against anyone wishing for that, even believing in it, well, she can't help but wonder if the poor girl has ever really had her heart broken, or if the idea of love, to her, truly is everlasting and perfect.

And if Kara _hasn't_ known heartbreak, if she _hasn't_ felt that kind of soul-shattering agony…well, Kensi's glad for that.

But on the other hand, Kensi can't help but find herself secretly envious of that kind of life, that kind of love. The kind of love that _doesn't_ leave you all alone on Christmas morning, the only proof that love had ever even been there at all the diamond on her finger and _his_ scent still all around her.

That's something she tries to forbid herself to think about anymore, more than seven years after the fact – it's done, he's gone, and she's moved forward. She's moved _on_. So, forcing it all from her mind, she instead focuses on Kara's question. But before she can piece together a suitable reply, Deeks takes the lead. "I, uh, actually had to ask three times," he says.

Kara gives a quiet gasp. "Three times? You mean Melissa said no? _Twice?_" she asks, her disbelief genuine.

Deeks chuckles. "Yeah, I couldn't believe it either," he quips, winking playfully at Kensi. "This one," he continues, gently nudging her side, "she made me work for it. Made me _fight_ for it. I, uh…" He trails off, smiling softly. "I don't think she realized at the time just how in over my head I was with her, though."

Kara coos softly, relaxing into her fiancé's embrace. "That's so romantic," she breathes, resting her head on Nathan's shoulder.

His lips twitch slightly. "Mel disagreed," he jokes, snickering at her well-placed protest – she's getting better, he's noticing. He's still not sure that _he_ would believe her, if he were in Nathan and Kara's place…but then again, Deeks _knows_ better. Nathan and Kara…well, they're just a couple of happy romantics enthralled in this fictional tale of love. "She _did_ say no twice…but I knew why. And I didn't let it stop me."

"So why _did_ she say no?" This time, it's Nathan who asks.

Deeks turns his head, looking right into Kensi's dark eyes as he answers. "She was scared," he says quietly. "Scared of the commitment, scared of taking such a huge leap. Little bit scared of closing her eyes and trusting that someone would be there to catch her." Unconsciously, he slowly traces the pad of a finger over the warm, golden band on his left hand. "It hurt, sure, but I tried my best to understand that it was too soon, that it was too much, that she needed time. Time and proof."

He reaches for Kensi's hand then, gently lacing his fingers with hers atop her thigh. "And I had plenty of both of those," he murmurs. "I'd literally never…I mean, I just…I _knew_. You know?" Deeks glances briefly toward their guests, sharing a smile with Nathan. "So…she might have said no; hell, she might have said no _twice_, but dammit, I wasn't going to let one silly little word keep me from the one thing I wanted more than anything else.

"So the second time she told me she wasn't ready, I vowed that night that if it took until the day I died…" He pauses for effect, turning his ocean eyes to Kensi, meeting her gaze for one solitary moment, the unspoken truths hidden beneath the surface somehow even heavier than this quickly yet carefully crafted cover. "I knew I would make you mine eventually."

The chill that dives down the length of Kensi's spine has her quivering in the intensity of his gaze. Heat rises quickly in her cheeks, and she _has_ to look away. She _has_ to, because her stomach clenches and suddenly, she's not sure who her partner is. The cover is Justin, her husband…but those eyes…oh God. Those blue eyes belong unquestionably to Marty Deeks.

Luckily, Kara is unaware of the heated tension between them, and never before has Kensi been more thankful for someone's cluelessness. She presses for Deeks to continue, almost literally on the edge of her seat. "Go on!"

Deeks smiles, turning his gaze to their joined hands. "I really didn't have any other choice," he says, shrugging slightly. "There was no other option. There was nobody else. I mean…I fell in love with her the day I met her." He waits for a beat, focusing more on the way his partner tenses beside of him than on his neighbor's hum of delight. "So I made it my mission to do everything in my power to make her fall for me, just as far and as hard as I did for her. I needed to…to make the idea of _not_ being with me for the rest of her life scarier than everything that was holding her back."

His grin turns playful, and as he continues again, he's once more speaking to Kensi rather than Nathan and Kara – it's a soft, sheepish apology, almost. "I, uh, guess that's part of why I can't keep my mouth shut about our little one now. I used up all of my patience waiting for you to fall as hard as I did, right from the beginning."

_It's a game,_ Kensi thinks. _Just a game_.

He's just trying to get to her; just trying to push her beyond the boundaries of their partnership, the silent understandings that form the basis of their temporary marriage. That's all it is, just Deeks trying to knock her off balance.

And oh dear God, he is.

He _is_, and Kensi can't fight back the effect his words are having on her. And she can't even find her own words; her voice betrays her and even if she tried to speak, she thinks she could probably achieve little more than a squeak. It's _so_ unlike her and oh, she hates him for oh so easily taking back the upper hand.

And the worst part (or perhaps…no, she refuses to use the opposite of that word) is that she has _no_ idea just how far he's willing to push it. It _scares_ her, truly, because she can do little more than play along with him or else arouse suspicion. It's so unfair; just as unfair as the coils twisting deep in her belly and the dizzying flutter in her chest. It's so unfair because every part of her instinct is telling her to stand, to walk away, to put some distance between them because right now, it's too much and they're too close, and not even the presence of another couple in the room with them is enough to make the moment safe.

"I planned out _everything_ for the third time. I _had_ to make it perfect – I _had_ to. And I still remember it like it was yesterday…" He pauses, a wistful look in his eyes and for a moment, Kensi thinks he's truly reaching for something in his memory because right now, he's just _too_ good. She knows his undercover skills are _excellent_, maybe even beyond those of Sam and Callen. But this? This is almost _too real_. It's almost too genuine to be a cover at all.

He feels her eyes on him; turning his head, Deeks offers her a smile. Kensi finds herself mildly shocked at just how _innocent_ of a smile it is – it's not devious, it doesn't give the impression that he's up to something. And, even more than that, it's not a smile that makes her think he's doing this, saying all of this solely to toy with her.

_That_ scares her more than she's willing to admit.

"And it _was_ perfect," he continues finally, his gaze pensive as he turns his eyes downward. "Everything about that night, that moment. Everything in me, it all just told me that it was time. And God, I think that made me even more nervous than I'd been the first two times," he admits, chuckling quietly. "Maybe it's a bit clichéd, to you two, but damn…it still feels perfect to me."

He exhales slowly, his lips twitching as he realizes he's probably the only one in the room truly breathing. Deeks knows their guests, young and in love with romance itself, are holding their breath, but what surprises him is that he's almost certain Kensi is too.

He could stop and think of the implications of that, but Deeks forces himself not to focus on it, lest he distract himself. "I took her to the beach, and we walked hand-in-hand for what felt like hours, the waves rushing over our feet. It was a little bit chilly, breezy, she had one of my hoodies on." Deeks grins. "Grey. A little big on her. Her hair was a mess in the wind, but I didn't think she'd ever been more beautiful."

Kara sighs happily, but Deeks has long since stopped really caring about how she's reacting to his words. "The sun set and the stars came out; it was dark, but not _too _dark, you know? And uh, I swear I think time completely stopped when I turned to her, knowing that _this_ woman was the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. _This_ woman was the one I wanted to start a family with. _This _woman…she's the one I couldn't live without."

His own heart is pounding now as it starts to hit him just how close to the truth some of this is. In the beginning, it'd all just been a story, one he'd decided to make up to amuse Kara and Nathan and tease Kensi. But somewhere along the way, it had ceased to be about that at all, and truly he can't even remember where it had drifted from his wild imagination into some of his most secret desires.

Because at the end of it all, he _wants_ her.

He wants her, and God, he would love to have this. The happiness, the love, the promises of forever that he's always questioned the existence of just as much as Kensi. To be able to wrap his arms around her – _her_, not just anyone, but _her_ – every night as he closes his eyes, her sweet scent and the warmth of her presence leading him into a beautifully peaceful sleep…to have that now, but knowing he doesn't _have_ it…it makes his chest truly _ache_. He _wants_ her; he wants this, and the thought of being able to call Kensi _his…_

He'd thought it was all under control, his feelings for her.

Deeks is realizing for the first time just how incredibly _wrong_ he's been.

All the one night stands and random numbers in his phone; all the pretty girls he's ever thrown a wink to or flirted with or even carelessly offered that powerful four-letter L word to…none of them mean _anything_. None of that means anything now.

And really, he thinks it probably hasn't meant anything to him in quite some time, but at least before, he'd been able to convince himself otherwise. Because that; the one night stands and flirtations that would never really evolve into anything…_that_ was attainable. _That_ was something he was allowed to have.

This?

No.

He _can't _have this.

He _can't_ have her.

He doesn't _deserve_ any of it. The happiness, the forever, _her_. All the good he could do in fifty thousand future lives wouldn't make him enough in _this_ life to deserve that kind of love.

Hell, he doesn't know that there exists a single person who'd _want _all of that with him.

And certainly not the great Kensi Blye.

And oh _God_, how terribly that _hurts_.

He's in too far to stop now, though, so he does what Marty Deeks has always done: carry on. Push forward. Fight back the ache, the truth until the job is done, at least. His voice is softer as he continues, and he's almost certain Kensi can tell that a bit of his strength has left him, but as long as their guests can't tell, well, that's all that matters. _Put on a show, Marty. Always put on a show._

And that's exactly what he does. "I, uh, I turned to her there on the beach, and I just…put my hands on her cheeks and kissed her. Kissed her like I'd never kissed her before. When we stopped, I didn't pull back. I held her face, looked her deep in the eye, and just said 'Marry me.'" Deeks stops, tracing his tongue over suddenly parched lips. "I just…said it. I didn't ask her this time. And it felt like an eternity before she finally, _finally_ said yes."

"I figured you were never going to give up," Kensi teases. "I had no choice."

"You'd marry me all over again," Deeks counters.

There's something _off_ about his voice – something heavy, something cold. Something completely different than the happiness and the excitement he'd summoned through the entire story. Even Kensi had found herself drawn into his tale, and though she'd _never_ admit it, she can't deny that it'd left her feeling just a bit lonely because it's _not_ true, and when this is over, she'll be going home alone.

She may not believe in love anymore, but sometimes she can't help but think that maybe, just maybe it would be nice to have someone who wanted her enough to _chase_ her; someone who wanted her enough _not_ to leave her like everyone else.

But clearly, their guests don't sense that mounting tension in the air. Kensi's relieved that Kara decides to move on to another topic…until it's clear which one she picks. "So you finally said yes. Got married, had the perfect honeymoon. How did you tell him when you found out you were pregnant?"

For a moment, Kensi is silent. This truly _isn't_ her area of expertise, coming up with believable stories in the moment. That's her partner's skill, not hers, and when it's clear he's not going to answer this one, Kensi sighs, hoping her answer doesn't somehow blow their cover. "I didn't tell him for a week," she says, tracing a fingertip along the top of his hand. "When I found out, I could barely believe it – we'd been trying for awhile, and it was almost…"

"Too good to be true," Deeks finishes for her, his voice soft.

It's there again, that change in his voice. It's much stronger this time, much too strong for Deeks to try and conceal, and Kensi realizes just what exactly it is: it's a note of sadness.

It's so out of place in what's supposed to be a moment of joy that Kensi can't help but falter for just a moment. Having this man as her partner in the field is sometimes nothing less than infuriating, especially when he jumps two steps ahead of her and totally rewrites the cover story she's prepared for, leaving her trying to catch up while he speeds on ahead. _She's_ struggled, sometimes, but the one thing about Marty Deeks that she can't help but notice is that he _never_ does. It's natural to him, assuming a different identity and playing it through to the end, and not once has she seen him waver. Not once has she seen him stumble out of character, even for a second.

So it confuses her now, but Kensi can do no more than file it away for later. For now, she plays her role of the loving, admiring wife perfectly, smiling softly and laying her head on his shoulder as she continues. "That exactly," she agrees, gently pinching the underside of Deeks' wrist in an effort to bring him back to the present. It seems to work, though, as he slowly wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. Kensi can't help but notice that it's a bit stiffer than before, this simple action that he's done so many times without even thinking about it – it's a sure sign that he's bothered by something.

He's bothered, which makes it clear that she's going to have to maintain the lead here. "I'd been feeling kind of…weird for a few days," she continues, drawing on past conversations with girlfriends and her vast romantic comedy movie library. "I tried not to get caught up in it, because we've been…disappointed before. We'd get all excited just because I was a little queasy, only for it to because of some bad sushi instead."

She smiles then. "This time though, it was different – it just wouldn't go away. I was so sick to my stomach that I couldn't even eat ice cream." Glancing sideways at her partner, she expects that comment to get a smirk from him. A smirk, a chuckle, a retort, _anything_. He gives her nothing, though, and suddenly, Kensi is much more concerned. What's going on with him? "I finally got up the nerve to take a test, and when it came back positive, I think I was in shock. I ended up keeping it to myself for over a week because, well, I just couldn't believe it. And we'd been through this before, only to be let down, so I…I didn't want to get his hopes up."

She turns her gaze toward her partner, a soft smile on her lips. Feeling her shift next to him, Deeks turns his head to the side, deep blue eyes locking with dark brown. There's a silent question in her gaze, one she _knows_ he sees because he can read her like no one else.

She can't deny feeling a little hurt when he neglects to acknowledge it. Even though Kensi knows she wouldn't believe it, a slight smile and a bit of a nod meant to convey _I'm fine_ would be better than this silence.

And maybe it's that longing for some kind of reaction from him that makes her do what she does next. Tenderly, she brings a gentle palm to his stubbled cheek, her eyes never straying from his. "I knew he wanted this more than _anything_ else." And then, before she can even attempt to tell herself no, Kensi leans in toward him, gently pressing her lips to his.

It's just a quick peck on the lips, meant to garner some kind of response from him, to draw him back into the present. But as she pulls back, Kensi feels a chill rush down the length of her spine at the brief shadow that flits across Deeks' eyes before he quickly looks away again.

Oh, how she wishes she could pull him aside right now and make him talk to her.

But that's not an option right now. Right now, she has to carry on as if nothing is wrong. And she does, though halfheartedly – this hadn't been her story in the first place. "Back at our place, we've got this spare room that we kind of use for an office…not that we really spend any time in there. It's mostly just where the bills and receipts and everything like that ends up, filed away. It's just down the hall from our bedroom. The day I decided to tell him, I was in there, waiting for him. I waited until I felt him behind me before I said hey. He just kind of hugged me from behind, then kissed my cheek before he asked me what I was doing in there by myself."

Pausing for a moment, Kensi bites the inside of her cheek, wishing more than ever that Deeks would jump back into the conversation. She thinks he would tease her forever if he knew she was sitting here actually _wanting_ him to take control again. _He's_ the one who put together this story; he's the one who decided (without her permission or knowledge…not that he cared, of course) that they _couldn't_ simply be husband and wife, but that they just _had_ to have a little one on the way. This was _his_ story, not hers.

He'd put this story together and then abandoned her with it.

Why can't anything with this man _ever_ be simple?

Forcing a smile back to her lips, Kensi continues, though her own voice seems fake to her ears – she's certain she'd be able to tell that _nothing_ about this is real if she were the one listening to her. "I told him that I was thinking about redecorating," she says, resting her head on his shoulder again. "That since we really didn't use the room for anything, we should…make it into something else. And he asked me what I was thinking about. I started small; I said I thought we should redo the walls. Paint them something brighter, more colorful than the boring white that they were. Maybe some pretty, flowy curtains. Some framed pictures on the walls." Kensi pauses, pursing her lips and allowing her silence to build the anticipation. "Then, I pointed at the desk, in front of the big window looking out into the backyard…and I, uh, I said something about replacing that with a crib…"

It's the perfect place for Deeks to jump in and share Justin's reaction to the news, but he still remains quiet beside her. Kensi lets out a sigh; she can't hold it back. "He didn't say anything for a long moment, not until I could feel him trying to get me to turn around and face him. I did that, and he looked right at me and asked if I meant what he thought I meant. If we were…if we were finally going to have a baby. And – all I could do was nod because…I just – I couldn't say anything. And neither could he – but the happiness, the _joy _in his eyes; it was like what I'd just said had…made him the happiest man alive."

"For a second time," Deeks murmurs, finally seeming to slip somewhat back into character. Turning his head, he presses his lips tenderly to the top of Kensi's head, letting his eyes close for a moment as he breathes in her intoxicating scent. "The day she finally said yes to me, and the day she told me I was going to be a dad…all I ever wanted."

Kara sighs happily, relaxing against her own fiancé. "That's just so perfect. Almost too perfect to be real – you two are living a real-life fairy tale." Her left hand seeks out one of Nathan's, the diamonds of her engagement ring glittering as their fingers intertwine. "I can't wait until we get to start our own family. Have you picked out a name yet? I know Justin was calling her Fern earlier…"

It's all Kensi can do not to laugh. Lifting her glass, she takes a quick sip of water to hide the smirk at her lips. "That, uh, that's actually just a little…silly thing between us," she says, shaking her head despite the blush she can feel rising in her cheeks. She can see the question forming in Kara's curious eyes, but rather than elaborate on the little nickname, Kensi simply answers the other question, wanting to move forward. "We, uh, haven't thought of anything yet…" She stops there, biting her lip as she turns her eyes downward. "It's still early. Guess it feels a bit too early to really think about…about that."

Nathan chuckles. "Be careful with that, though. It may feel early, but you know she'll be here in no time."

"Yeah," Deeks agrees quietly. "Time sure slips away from us, doesn't it?"

* * *

She's relieved by the time they're finally saying goodnight to Nathan and Kara; finally, she can breathe again. Finally, she can relax a bit…or, she could, if she wasn't so very confused about her partner.

He'd been quiet for the rest of the conversation, only adding in a word or two every few minutes. At least he'd begun making an effort…but Kensi could tell that his mind was still a million miles away. He'd been at her side, a hand at the small of her back as they'd walked their guests to the door, but as soon as Kensi had closed the door behind them and switched off the lights in the foyer, Deeks was gone.

_"It was like he was trying to get away from me as quickly as possible."_

She flinches as the memory resurfaces, the memory of the day she'd been led to believe their partnership was truly over. She remembers the quiet admission she'd made to Hetty about feeling so very powerless, unable to help, to do anything that might have made it better. The only thing she'd been able to do was watch him walk away from her. And while she _knows_ it had all been a ruse, that none of it had been real, Kensi still can't forget how badly it had _hurt._ Wishing he'd had more to say, watching him grab his box of belongings, strategically placing it between them almost as if it were a shield…

It had _hurt_.

And Kensi would be lying if she tried to say that how he's acting _now_ doesn't hurt similarly. What had she done to make him close down like that now? Had she said something? She wracks her brain, searching desperately for anything, but there's just nothing there that she can find. Everything up to this point, all the flirting and the boundary pushing and the limits of the cover and even the kisses…all of it has been _easy_. Natural. She's been annoyed with him at times, but he's always taken it in stride. He hasn't seemed annoyed or exasperated with her at all, and certainly not enough to simply close down and distance himself from her.

What on earth had _happened_? Kensi has no idea. And that bothers her. Following the sound of running water to the kitchen, she finds him, his body and his motions tense as he washes the evening's dishes. For a moment, Kensi stands in the doorway, her brow furrowed as she studies him.

This isn't like him, and even though she knows she really can't say anything when it comes to opening up, she still can't deny that it hurts that he'd close down like that. She's his _partner_, and God, she knows in the very depth of her heart just how very much that means. It means that _he_ is the only person she trusts, the only one she wants backing her up in the field. He's the only one she wants beside her during a stakeout, the only one she wants by her side as they unwind after a particularly grueling case.

_He's the only one you want at all._

The thought shocks her a bit, but Kensi shakes it away, crossing her arms over her chest, focusing on the man before her. Something has changed in the atmosphere between them tonight, that much is certain. But no matter how deeply she scours her memory, Kensi just can't figure out what it could be. One minute, he'd been completely fine, clearly having _way_ too much fun concocting the story of Justin and Melissa's engagement. But then the next moment, it was as if something had pulled him completely out of the conversation. He just wasn't there anymore, and he certainly wasn't having fun with it anymore.

She can't pick out the moment in the evening where playful and fun had shifted into something completely different. She can't pick out the moment where her partner had changed from the playful, teasing husband he's been playing all week, to this, whatever _this_ is. She doesn't like it, that's for sure. She doesn't like that the smile had dropped from his face as soon as their guests had departed; she doesn't like that he'd left her in the foyer behind them without a single word.

Perhaps that's the biggest tip-off that something is wrong, Kensi thinks. Deeks should be _proud_ of the intricate story he'd pieced together, all the details of their seemingly blissful engagement and honeymoon, and of course, the fact that he'd taken it upon himself to add a Little Fern to the whole equation.

He should be _gloating_ over the fact that Kensi can do nothing more than play along with him.

He _shouldn't_ be alone in the kitchen, rinsing dishes and champagne flutes with so much tension radiating off of him, thickening the air so much that Kensi can barely breathe. It feels like an eternity before she finally forces herself to speak, nearly suffocating beneath the heavy silence. "That was some story you put together tonight…"

He doesn't give her that smirk she's become so used to seeing at his lips. In fact, he doesn't even crack the slightest of smiles, or really, even glance her way at all. "So you'd said they bought it?" he asks simply, toweling away the remaining droplets of water on the clean plates.

Kensi nods, a tiny smile at her lips as she tries to lighten the moment. It's hard, though, considering she has no idea where this heaviness came from. "I think you had poor Kara nearly drooling," she quips, forcing a chuckle. "I bet she went home asking Nathan why _his _proposal couldn't have been that romantic."

"Eh, fiction's always a bit more glamorous than the truth," he remarks simply, placing the dishes carefully back in the cabinet, knowing that if he'd left this particular chore to Kensi, they would have merely sat in the sink for days. "Isn't that why you love your silly romance novels?"

She shrugs slightly. "I guess…"

He doesn't miss her failure to defend herself and how she chooses to unwind after a long day – every time he points out the presence of one on her coffee table or on the couch or hidden away somewhere she thinks he won't find, she never fails to send a glare his way or make some insulting comment about how _he_ spends his free time. Right now, though, she does neither of those.

And for that, really, he's glad. "See? Everybody loves a good story."

Kensi nods slowly. "Well, it was a good one," she repeats somewhat lamely, feeling the tension in the air between them thicken even more. "I was impressed too," she adds, forcing a grin. It doesn't get the reaction she thinks it should – she can count the times she's vocalized being impressed with him on one hand, and each time, it'd gone right to his head, and though she'd never admit it aloud, it's what she wishes she could elicit from him now. She _wants_ that self-satisfied grin; she _wants_ that cocky sparkle in his ocean eyes. "Interesting touch with the uh, three times bit, by the way."

"Seemed realistic to me," he replies, shrugging. "I figure it'd take that long to break _you_ down."

The barb in his voice isn't lost on her – it hits her square in the chest and she knows without needing to clarify that he's talking about _her_. Kensi. Not Melissa, the sweet, soft-spoken, lovesick wife who'd probably never really stopped believing in fairy tales – how could she, when her life _is_ one? No, he's talking about _Kensi_, the woman who's only really given her heart to one person and only for him to destroy it; the woman who'd put those tiny shards back together by herself only to hide them within the walls of the most impenetrable fortress, walls she'd been determined _never_ to let anyone else breach because the inevitable suffering was just too much. Far too much.

He _knows_ how broken Jack's disappearance had left her.

And how _dare_ he lob that carelessly back at her now.

Her heart clenches at the memory, almost a year and a half ago. Christmas Eve, the day that those ghosts from her past had surfaced, overwhelming her, _blinding_ her. Her emotions had gotten in the way, making her an easy target for Talbot's manipulations, his PTSD that in the end was just as real as the idea of true, everlasting love to Kensi.

He'd refused to leave that night, after he'd brought her home, still wearing that silly, slightly lopsided Santa hat on his head, shopping bags in his hands filled with five different tubs of ice cream (and that's _after_ she'd narrowed the decision down from upwards of twenty – it's not _her_ fault that all the flavors are delicious). And it'd been late that night, old Christmas movies on the screen in front of them, empty bottles on the table and spoons in both of their hands as they dug into the tub of cookies and cream that she'd opened up to him, for some reason trusting him with the story she'd divulged to no one, ever. From the delirious happiness she'd felt when Jack had proposed, all the way to the crushing, devastating heartbreak she'd succumbed to once she'd finally forced herself to admit that he was truly _never_ coming home to her.

Before she'd fully realized it, she'd told her partner _everything _about that chapter of her life.

So he _knows_.

He _knows_ why she guards her heart so dearly; _knows_ why she never lets anyone truly get close to her. He _knows_ what she's afraid of, even though she would never admit to that fear (or _any_ fear) aloud.

So for him to bundle all of that up in such a careless, cold accusation…well, it's nothing short of a bucket of ice water to her face. It _hurts_, but that's not something badass Kensi Blye would ever admit. Never. "What is your problem tonight?" she asks simply.

His answer is simple and to the point, not to mention ironic. "Nothing," he grumbles. "I'm fine."

She scoffs. "Because that's _so_ much more believable when you say it."

"It _should_ be, considering I'm not trying to pretend it's true after some thug holds a gun to my head."

"Deeks –"

He cuts her off. "Let it go, Kens," he requests quietly. "Please. Just let it go."

That stokes the embers of anger within her to a full, blazing fire. How many times has she asked the same of him? _How many times? _And _never_ has he allowed her to drop it. Not until she, at the very _least_, admitted that _something_ was bothering her.

And he won't even grant her that. "I'm not an idiot, Deeks," she snaps, much more harshly than she'd really intended. It takes a concentrated burst of effort to make herself soften her voice as she continues, because right now, with tension in the air almost suffocating her and the requirements of this rather intimate assignment weighing on both of them by this point, really, what she wants to do is yell at him. So she exhales slowly before she continues, focusing on every word as it leaves her lips. "I'm not an idiot, and I'm not blind. I know something changed out there. I know there's something on your mind. So why don't you just _tell_ me so we can fix it, you know?" She waits, but he makes no effort to reply. "One minute, you were fine, we were chatting with Kara and Nathan like…like we might talk to anybody. But now you're in here…_sulking_ about something –"

"Sulking. Nice."

She ignores his bitter interjection and carries on. "Whatever it is, why won't you just _say_ it?"

"You _do_ realize just how rich that is, coming from you, right?" Deeks turns then, and finally he meets her gaze, his blue eyes alive with anger, but at the same time, there's something else there. Something Kensi can't name; something Deeks doesn't _want_ her to see. "Maybe it has nothing to do with you; did you ever think about that? Maybe it's not really any of your business."

His voice is harsh, almost excessively so. "The way you're acting right now, I don't really believe that at all," she answers evenly.

She's not backing down. After a long, heavy moment, Deeks is the first to look away. "If you just _give_ me a few minutes, I'll be fine. It's nothing."

"Really?" she presses, still not believing him. "Because _I_ could tell that something changed out there, and what if Kara and Nathan were behind everything here? If they were more than just your average, lovesick couple, _they_ could have felt it too, and then the entire op could have been jeopardized." It's a low blow and Kensi knows it, attaching his change in demeanor to the outcome of the case. A low blow, certainly…but they've both seen it happen before. "We're supposed to be pretending like we're in love, Deeks. And I'm just saying…I felt it change. I don't know what happened to you out there, but it was something that broke you from your cover for a bit – it's a good thing they were a little bit tipsy because suddenly, you didn't seem like you were in love at all…and definitely not so much that you'd chase a single girl down three times to make her say yes."

She doesn't get it at all, clearly. Deeks shakes his head, scoffing. "Why don't you come up with a few more things I've managed to fail at?" he retorts bitterly, avoiding the heart of the matter. "I _know_ you keep a list."

Kensi stares at him. Her confusion grows – this is _really_ out of character for him. Deeks generally isn't the type to let something gnaw at him like this. Usually, he's shrugging it off and covering it up with some ridiculous joke, but right now, he's not even _trying_. He's not trying, and really, that alarms Kensi more than she's willing to admit. "That's not what I _meant_," she says. "That's not what I meant at all."

"That's sure what it sounded like."

She sighs. "No. I just meant that…you're usually better than this. I've never seen something get to you so badly that you would let it break your cover." Kensi pauses, waiting, but Deeks says nothing. "I'm your partner," she adds softly. "I like to think I know you pretty well. And this…it's not you and I'm just…concerned."

"Well, don't be," he commands sharply. "Because like I said, it's got _nothing_ to do with you." And really, it doesn't, because what he's feeling right now, this anger, this frustration, this heaviness in his chest laced with sparks of desire that he can't ignore…these feelings, they're nothing to do with her. It's _him_. Just him. Him and his ridiculous momentary weakness, his inability to stop them from surfacing.

He starts to make his way from the kitchen, needing the security of possible surveillance to push them back into their assigned covers because right now, being Marty Deeks is the last thing he wants. But before he can slide past her, Kensi catches him by the arm, stopping him briefly. "Then tell me what it _is_," she pleads, wishing he'd meet her eyes. "It's _me, _Deeks. Talk to me."

He tugs his arm free of her grasp, his arm tingling, _burning_ from her touch. "We _never_ talk about things like this," he says, his voice icy. "Why the hell would we start now?"

And then, before Kensi can even utter a single word, he's gone.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	9. nine

The fates have conspired against him tonight, of that much Deeks can be certain.

He hears the distant chime of the old grandfather clock downstairs, but he doesn't need to count the chimes to know the night has pushed its way past two AM. Wide awake, he's counted every passing minute silently in his head, feeling them grow longer and more agonizing the later he stays awake. There's not a single part of him that had believed he'd find sleep tonight, though. There's just too much…static in his head. Conflicting thoughts and emotions plague him, chasing away any hope of relaxation and leaving him stranded in the shadows cast within the wide cavern that separates what he wants from what he can actually have.

Staring skyward, Deeks tries to calm the ache in his chest; it's the ache of emptiness, of distance. His partner, his best friend, his undercover wife…she might be mere inches away from him, under the same blankets that cover him tonight but at the same time, he feels as if he couldn't be farther away from her. He _knows_ what she wants – or rather, what she _doesn't_ want. Until tonight, he'd _thought_ he'd known what he wanted…but he'd been wrong in the end.

Just like always.

Part of him is tempted to get up, to pull himself from blankets and pillows that smell just like her (God, he'll never erase her scent and these feelings from his memory now) and go out for a late run to attempt to clear his head. Nothing but the cool night air around him, the misty fog upon his skin, and the rhythmic cadence from his iPod in his ears. His body is humming with energy right now; it's an uneasy energy, and lying here, completely still next to the cause of those uneasy thoughts is only making them worse. Louder, heavier. Too much.

It would all be too much on its own, but when added to the fact that his partner has _no_ concept of personal space…well, it's an added burst of pain every time she touches him. On a normal night, he'd fall asleep like this, and wake up to his Kensi – _no_, he thinks; _stop that_ – snuggled into his side or draped across his chest, her hair tickling his neck. Tonight, it's none of those – it's clear he's not the only one who can't find rest when he feels her kick him, yet again.

He sighs softly, feeling the bed shake as she shifts next to him, tossing and turning in a haphazard way that could _only_ be explained as Kensi. It's another one of their differences – he tends to lie still pondering and overthinking and brooding when he can't sleep (perhaps a skill he's held onto from the longest nights on the streets, living under someone else's name); she, on the other hand, can't stay still.

She's trying, though – he knows that beyond any shadow of doubt. After two years, what kind of partner would he be if he didn't know at least _some_ of how Kensi's mind works? He's learned to read the little things, those little things that show even as she fights to keep the bigger things hidden. He knows the more she tries to still herself, the more she tosses and turns. The thought brings a brief twitch to his lips – Kensi Blye: stubborn, mind _and_ body.

He can feel the unease radiating from her, even with the space between them. He knows she'd been bothered by what had happened earlier in the kitchen – he'd been bothered by it as well. Though, for him, it'd gone much deeper than simply how he'd reacted. Closing his eyes, Deeks feels a pang of regret hit him square in the chest; he'd been cold toward her, and his parting shot…well, if he were her, he's not sure he'd ever forgive himself for that little blow.

For now she's settled on her side, facing the far wall, but Deeks knows she won't stay that way for long. He knows her eyes are squeezed fiercely closed; knows she's trying to focus on something simple, something inane, something repetitive that might guide her quietly into sleep. Methodically counting to a thousand, maybe; or perhaps yet again going over case objectives they still have to accomplish. Whatever it is, though, it's merely a temporary distraction from what's truly weighing her mind down. Only temporary, and just as soon as she starts to let her guard down again, that's when Deeks knows he'll get another kick to his knee or an elbow in his side. After all, that's been the routine for the entire night thus far; he's certain nothing will change between now and first light.

He's got a couple of choices. Between her restlessness and his unease, there's no way he's finding sleep. If he were to get up now, it'd be easy enough to mask from anyone watching – even the best couples, even all the Justins and Melissas in the world sometimes have their rough patches. To outside eyes, Justin and Melissa had fought tonight. After that, conversation had been chilly at best; completely absent at worst. If he wanted to, Deeks could wait for her to kick him again; then, he could grumble in irritation, throw back the sheets and grab his pillow before stalking downstairs to the couch for the rest of the night. It would make sense, tonight.

Instead, Deeks lets the idea drift from his mind just as quickly as it had settled upon his thoughts. He can get up and go to the couch no more than he could have gotten out of bed and gone for a run.

Because at the end of it all, they're still who they are.

They're _partners_.

And he won't leave his partner behind, no matter what the reasoning behind it.

Slowly, he shifts onto his side, facing toward her in the dark. The only light in the room filters through the sheer curtains; maybe it's moonlight, maybe it's a streetlight, but Deeks doesn't really care which. All he cares about is that it illuminates her enough for him to see the tousled waves of her dark hair as it fans out on her pillow; for him to see the gentle, almost too steady rise and fall of her body as she tries to calm her breathing; for him to see the soft, delicate skin of her shoulder and her back, covered only by the skimpy little strap of the tank top she sleeps in.

He's grown far too accustomed to sleeping with her in his arms, he thinks, because it doesn't strike him as anything less than natural when he shifts closer to her, slowly snaking a gentle arm around her middle. She tenses a bit, but if she's surprised, she says nothing. Nor does she stop him when he tugs lightly, drawing her into him, her back flush against his chest.

They've woken up like this a few mornings, but they've never fallen asleep like this. Well, not purposely, anyway. It's the first night he's reached for her, knowing full well that she's just as awake as he is; it's also the first night, though, that he's felt this pang of guilt, searching for any small gesture to serve as an apology to her. For what he'd said, during and after dinner. For closing down the way he had. For hurting her.

The whispered breath of her name slips into the air between them before he can even think to stop it – _her_ name, not her cover name. _Kensi_. For a brief while, he simply lingers there, giving her the moment she needs should she choose to pull away.

She doesn't, though, and as he feels her relax just the slightest bit against him, Deeks lets out the breath he'd been holding. And it's there, cloaked by night, hidden beneath the covers, that he lets his deeper desires win. Boundaries be damned tonight; he just _can't_ push her away. Tightening his hold on her, he gently nudges his knee between hers, knowing he's crossing about a thousand lines with such a bold move. It's a silent agreement they've made when it comes to just how much…_intimacy _is allowed between them. Kisses when necessary to keep cover? Sure. Taking her hand in his as they walk? Yeah. Pressing his lips to her forehead? Cuddling in the dark, a movie playing on low in the den? Certainly…despite her heavy sighs of warning that he so pointedly ignores. But this? He almost expects her to shove her elbow into his stomach for this – even he can't deny that this position they're in now is far more intimate than they've agreed to.

She doesn't, though.

Instead, he feels his partner exhale a shaky breath, one that seems to take the tension in her body away with it as it escapes into the night. And that's when Deeks closes his eyes and nuzzles gently into her hair, letting her sweet scent soothe the ache deep inside of him – he knows it'll return later, but right now, being close to her is enough to quiet it, at least a bit.

His thoughts drift slowly back to the story he'd created for them, the story he'd shared with such playful glee earlier with their neighbors. As that secret desire takes hold of him once more, Deeks lets his thumb tenderly tease its way beneath the cotton hem of her tank top, brushing feather-light over the soft skin of her belly, just enough so he knows she feels it. And he knows because, despite how she tries to conceal it, he feels the shiver as it spreads through her body. He hears the sigh, soft and quiet as it slips from her lips, a sound that he savors as he breathes her in, again letting himself fall so irrevocably under her spell.

Oh, how he _dreads_ the day that this assignment ends; the night he goes home and tries to sleep alone, between sheets and blankets that seem so cold and foreign and _harsh_ against his skin, all because in three weeks' time, _this_ is what he's come to associate with the thought of _home_. Her warmth, her scent, her very presence. Her quiet, piglet-like snores in his ears late into the night; his arms around her, limbs tangled as the magic of sleep transforms them both into cuddlers.

It's terrifying, he thinks, just how deeply he feels for her. It's terrifying to him that for once in his life, he might _not_ be able to walk away from a case. He might _not_ be able to walk away from this, from her. That's always been the one thing he's prided himself on – his ability to bounce from case to case, cover to cover without any sort of attachment, without anything back home to distract him.

It's the one thing he's always been able to count on. Losing that means losing the one constant in his ever-changing life. And yet, at the same time, he can't _imagine_ living that way anymore, not after this.

Deeks _can't_ walk away from Kensi after this assignment and pretend that she's just his partner. He can't pretend that she's just the woman he carpools to work with sometimes; that she's just the woman he sometimes commiserates with on a Friday night when they're both dateless; that she's just the woman who sneaks into his desk when he's not in the bullpen, stealing from his hidden stash of sweets (which of course he keeps solely for her anyway).

He can't just walk away and pretend she means _nothing_ to him.

It's terrifying just how close he wants her. It's terrifying to him that, suddenly, he finds himself not wanting to let her go…tonight, or otherwise.

And that's when Deeks can no longer deny it: he's committed the cardinal sin of this job.

It's something he'd sworn never to let happen again, not after Nicole. Deeks had thought it couldn't possibly go beyond _that_. But this…this is _so_ much more than that. He might have thought he'd gotten too close; he might have thought he'd fallen for Nicole.

He _had_ gotten too close.

But Nicole had _never_ had this kind of hold upon him.

Upon his heart.

He'll be the first to admit that there are a thousand things he should have never let happen with Nicole. He should have been the better person – she was his best friend's wife, his _only_ friend's wife. Time and time again, he'd put that friendship in jeopardy…for what? For chicken soup and comfort whenever he was feeling under the weather? For her warmth in his bed when the chills and horrors of being Max Gentry became too much? To forget for just a moment everything he is and everything he's done?

Years after the fact, he's realized they were probably both using each other. She'd fallen for him, and certainly he'd cared about her, but in the end, when it was time for Max to disappear, he'd…simply disappeared. He'd wondered about Nicole every now and then, but she too had been left behind with that particular alias.

Nicole was part of Max's life, not Marty's.

And tonight, he'd fully realized that key difference between Nicole and Kensi.

Melissa is part of Justin's life.

But Deeks isn't Justin…and he doesn't want Melissa.

He wants _Kensi_.

And she's _not_ going to disappear when this identity is filed neatly away. She's not going to disappear, and neither are these _feelings_. And that's what had hit him squarely in the face tonight, out of the blue (_damn_, he should have seen this coming). None of _this_ is going to leave him, because if he's perfectly honest, he's struggling with his cover here.

He doesn't understand it – it's foreign to him, really. Over the years, Deeks has _always_ been the master. The best. Unrivaled when it came to putting himself so deep into a cover that he _became_ that cover. He had _become_ Jason Wyler; he had _become_ Dale John Sully. There'd been no remnant of Marty Deeks in either of those identities.

And that was the way it had to be…if he wanted to stay alive.

But there's just something about this cover, something about this mission…_something_ that he just can't keep Marty Deeks away from. And he knows what it is – it's the happy, carefree life, this lifestyle where he can relax, not worrying that the next corner is going to bring him face to face with the end of his life.

And, more than that, it's his companion.

It's _Kensi_.

This evening, he'd come face to face with the realization that these feelings don't belong solely to Justin. That while he most certainly had put together the story of Justin's proposal on the spot, the emotions behind the story…_God_.

He's known he's had a _thing_ for her for quite some time.

He knows he can't deny that she's gorgeous, that she's stunningly beautiful, that he enjoys hearing the details of her occasional dates less and less each time (though he's tried to write it off as being protective of her, because that's what any good partner would feel).

But – oh God – it hadn't truly hit him until tonight, tonight as he sat on the couch with her body curled comfortably against his, as he told the story of their "proposal" to a _real_ engaged couple. All the mornings waking up with his limbs tangled with hers; the kisses shared as they attempted to keep cover; the heated moment of passion in the pool (oh _God_, that moment…); the sight of her doing laundry, wearing _nothing_ but his shirt…somehow, he'd been able to convince himself that all of that was part of their game. Their thing.

Tonight, though…his heart had clenched as he fought his way through the story, every memory of the past couple of weeks flitting through his head with brighter clarity than before, highlighting all the little nuances he's attempted to look past because to admit _any_ of it would mean admitting that he's not as good at this job, at separating the cover from who he really is.

Somewhere, the lines had blurred together so much that they no longer even exist.

The words had belonged to Justin. But the emotions belonged unquestionably to _Marty_.

Because God, he _wants_ this. He _wants _this kind of love.

_Yes. Love._

He is head over heels in love with this beautiful, wild, reckless, sometimes utterly _insane _woman.

At this point, he thinks he's so far gone that there's no possible way back from it.

And that is no one's fault but his own.

So he hadn't been lying to her earlier, in the kitchen.

Well, not entirely, anyway.

Because while his sudden shift _did_ have everything to do with her, why he'd closed down had been solely because of _him_. Because _he_ hadn't been good enough to stop this before it happened; because he hadn't been good enough to even _realize_ it was happening until it was too late, until he already cared about her far, _far_ more than he should.

And, more than that, it'd been something else. Something that had stung him even more deeply, piercing the very depths of his heart. Something that had hurt so badly that even to accept _any_ kind of comfort from his beautiful partner would only twist the knife further.

It would have only reinforced that he can never _have_ this.

That this just isn't _meant_ for him.

That he doesn't _deserve_ it.

He doesn't deserve _her_.

And it had been _that_ blow to his chest that had made him retreat, needing a moment of quiet solitude in which to try and regroup. He'd been shaken by the realization – more so than he should have been, really. And Kensi had noticed – which meant anyone else could have noticed his lapse in cover.

He knows it happens to all of them at one point or another. There's an assignment for all of them, one that finds its way under their skin, one that they get a little too close to. One that they wish _wasn't_ just an assignment; one they wish they could fully disappear within, never resurfacing, never reclaiming their true identity.

It just wasn't supposed to be _this_ assignment.

He _isn't_ supposed to long for this life.

He _isn't _supposed to love waking up with her in his arms this much; isn't supposed to love falling asleep with her in his arms like this. There's an element of bittersweetness tainting the moment as he holds her now, stray strands of dark brown tickling his nose, his thumb tracing lazy circles on her belly because _God_, this feels good; it feels _right_, but at the same time there's no denying that it can never be. It's not _real_. It could _never_ be real, and after this is all over, they'll go back to being partners, just partners.

Nothing more, nothing less.

He'll have to settle for that. For her partnership, her friendship, the way she tries not to laugh at his jokes, the way her eyes light up when he shows up in the mornings with coffee and her favorite cream-filled pastries, the way her stunning smile somehow coaxes one out of him even on his worst days, the knowledge that there's nobody else, LAPD or NCIS, that he'd trust to back him up in the field (and not just because she's got _killer_ aim).

So while he can't imagine no longer having _this_, just the same, Deeks can't imagine no longer having _that_.

And that's enough to make him ache with regret, mentally chiding himself for how cold he'd been to her earlier. True, he'd felt raw, burning with the depth of his own heartache, but he'd never meant to lash out at her. He'd never meant to snap at her; he'd never meant to push her away just as she's done to him in the past, when he's tried to gently cajole her into opening up to him.

He'd taken his frustration out on her earlier; now, as he recalls the utter harshness in some of the words he'd tossed her way, Deeks can't help but succumb to the wave of guilt that washes over him. It _hadn't_ been her fault at all, but he'd tried to push her away…now, as he draws her even closer under the cover of night, he knows he'd never forgive himself if she ever _did_ let him push her away.

Eyes closed, Deeks gives into the irrepressible urge to nuzzle deeper into her hair, pressing his lips tenderly to her neck through the silky strands. He whispers her name once more, his breath a cool breeze over warm flesh, eliciting another subtle shiver from her. She doesn't try to squirm away from him and he lets his mouth drift until his lips brush the shell of her ear as he whispers a quiet, nearly inaudible apology. "I'm sorry…"

Kensi lets out a slow breath, letting her eyes flutter open. For a long moment, she merely gazes absently into the darkness, his quiet apology playing over and over in her head, like a soft, sad melody. The weight of regret is heavy in his voice, so heavy that it burrows into the very heart of her, filling her with a chill that she simply cannot shake. She'd been hurt by his sudden change in demeanor earlier, but the amount of pain that taints his words right now…it's far too much for that alone.

There's something else there, something much deeper and before she can stop herself, Kensi finds herself tracing a single fingertip over the top of his hand, tucked snugly against her belly. She wants to say _it's okay_; she wants to let him know it's nothing in the grand scheme of things, that it takes more than that, far, _far_ more than that to rock the foundation of their partnership.

Instead, what comes out is a whispered apology of her own. "Me too…"

It catches him off guard for just a second, her quiet admission. As far as he's concerned, _he's_ the only one at fault here. _He'd_ been the one to snap at her without the slightest explanation. _He'd_ been the one to lob a hefty accusation her way, calling her out on her own secrets when he's got a closet full of his own that he's never shared with her.

_He'd_ been the one to craft together an even more elaborate story for them without asking her, without even _warning_ her. _He'd _been the one to push the game too far, only for the game to turn on him in the end.

_He'd_ been the one who'd gotten in over his head here, not her.

It takes a moment before he's able to find his voice again; when he does, it's little more than a warm caress of his breath to the sensitive flesh of her neck. "What for?"

Kensi swallows, mulling her words for a moment. "Earlier, in the kitchen," she says, shifting gently in his arms – she can't help it. "I shouldn't have tried to push."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you."

She nods slowly, pursing her lips thoughtfully. Apologies aside, it's clear there's still something in the air between them. Drawing comfort from the steadiness of his breath, Kensi tenderly laces her fingers between his, letting them rest together in the same place his palm had so naturally fallen when he'd pulled her into him. "Do you want to talk?" she asks softly, offering his hand a reassuring squeeze.

_They're in this together._

She prays that unspoken truth soothes him tonight just as much as it does her.

Deeks is quiet for a long moment, but this time, she doesn't push him. He's surprised at the mixed feelings that settle over him – he'd been upset earlier, but in the end, it had meant something to him that she'd cared enough to probe. At the same time, though, he's glad she doesn't now, because how could he ever truly explain any of this?

How does he explain to his partner, his amazing, badass, reckless partner, that he's found himself bested at his own game? That the tables had been quickly turning on him since that vision of her, sexily domestic and flirty and in _nothing but his white shirt_ had been burned furiously into his mind? How does he even begin to explain that her partner, the one she trusts and depends on to have her back in the field every day, suddenly can't be as impartial as he needs to be because he's let himself get way too close to her? That he'd laughed off Ray's teasing and Sam's mocking because it'd been so incredibly _ridiculous_, the very idea that he could fall in love with _her_…only to find himself blindsided by _exactly_ that?

God. He's in trouble here.

_So_ much trouble.

A quiet whisper of his name brings him back to the present – normally, he'd give anything to be saved from the dark recesses of his mind, but right now…well, this is just as painful as the darkest of his thoughts because at the end of the day, _he still wants her_.

He still wants her, and he still can't have her.

As good as she feels in his arms right now, pressed snugly against him…it also hurts like nothing he's ever experienced before.

Because it's not _real_.

It's not real, never will be real, and God, the cruelty of this assignment…there's no way he makes it home unscathed, and even then, he'll have to go back to work everyday with this woman, this woman who will no longer have to pretend she's in love with him, who will no longer be forced to endure his arms around her, his teasing, his flirting, everything.

This…it'll all disappear, snatched from his hands when he'd never really gotten to hold it at all.

_It's not fair_.

But this is nothing he could ever admit to the woman in question, the woman in his arms now. He thinks for a moment that maybe he should pull away from her and save himself as much heartache as he possibly can, but instead, right now, he indulges his desires and does exactly the opposite. It's going to hurt either way…so right now, he wants her as close as she'll let him. "I can't," he breathes into the wavy strands of her hair, finally answering the question she'd gently asked what seems an eternity ago. "I can't explain it…"

Her reply is simple, soothing. "You don't have to."

Maybe not now, he thinks. But at some point…there may come a time where he's forced to explain why he'd hesitated a moment too long on an op, placing her in danger because his judgment is clouded; or maybe, maybe when he's forced to look her in the eye and explain to her why exactly he cannot be her partner anymore…both scenarios, and all the others he tries to force quickly from his mind before they can take hold of him – they hurt like _hell_.

And so does the second apology he offers her, an apology that he almost _can't_ force out whereas earlier, the story had come as easily as breathing to him. "And, uh…I'm sorry for…for giving you a baby…"

He flinches as the words echo back to his own ears, wishing that he'd chosen much different words than that. To his surprise, she chuckles slightly in his arms, lifting her shoulders in a gentle shrug. "It's fine," she says, and God, how Deeks _hates_ when she uses that word. "I was just a little…surprised," she adds.

"I shouldn't have just…thrown that out there in front of Nathan and Kara tonight."

Kensi just shrugs again. "In the end, I played along alright, didn't I?"

A slight smile pulls at his lips, but Deeks is glad her back is to him; glad that she can't see that the emotion behind that smile isn't glee, isn't pride or happiness or anything similar. "Yeah…yeah, you did. But still…I shouldn't have blindsided you like that. Changing backstories like that…that's how covers get blown, and how people get hurt. I'm sorry I put you in that position tonight, Kens."

"Deeks…"

He shakes his head. "I wasn't thinking," he adds. It's not _entirely_ the truth, and silently, Deeks can't deny that. It'd taken a great deal of thought, even there on the spot, to craft together that elaborate story when something simple would have done the trick. And it hadn't been merely impulse that'd had him adding a baby to the mix in his conversation with the elderly lady across the street – it hadn't come out of nowhere, though at the time, he'd written it off as part of their game. Pressing buttons, pushing each other to see how far they can go.

He'd thought it'd be fun to tease Kensi.

But tonight, he'd been slapped in the face with the realization that it truly isn't any fun at all.

He _knows_ this isn't the life that his partner wants. She's Badass Blye, rogue agent extraordinaire; her idea of a good time is a high speed chase through downtown LA or another afternoon of beating him in the shooting range or throwing him down in a sparring match in the gym. She's tough, she's feisty, she's demanding. She's…not Melissa.

She's not Melissa, and Deeks can't help but wonder just how badly this assignment is killing her. Playing the perfect housewife, wearing sundresses, living the quiet life as opposed to the everyday life they're used to in their jobs – he _knows_ it's not the same, but Deeks can't help but compare it to the months he'd spent stuck on desk duty after a cover gone bad, one that had nearly cost him his life. It's not the life for him, and if he had nothing but that to look forward to, every single day for the rest of his life…he couldn't. He simply couldn't. It's not him.

And this…this isn't Kensi.

He thinks back to a day nearly a year ago, the words of his best friend echoing in his ears. At the end of the day, he knows he'd give almost anything to have what Ray has now. Maybe not witness protection, and probably not life in Miami with the scorching southern sun and the alli – _crocodiles_, he corrects himself, smiling slightly even now at the memory. His Wikipedia.

Maybe he wouldn't want all of that, but God…for the chance to be what he'd never had. The chance to abandon where he'd come from in favor of granting a better life to his son or daughter. The chance to be the father he'd never in his wildest dreams imagined he'd ever get to be.

He'd always _hoped_ for it.

But he'd never dreamed it possible until Ray was given the chance. And if Ray could have that, then why couldn't he?

If Ray could be happy, then why didn't _he_ deserve it too?

Closing his eyes, Deeks slowly breathes in, feeling a pang deep in his chest as the sweet scent of her shampoo washes over him. It's torture, pure torture, this ache that gnaws at him. And for that, truly, he's got nobody to blame but himself. He's the one who took it all way too far, only to get burned.

Beside him, Kensi can only utter another quiet whisper of his name. It's not the first time she's felt at a loss for the right words to offer some measure of comfort to her partner, but tonight, she can't even find the words to reassure herself either. _"That's how covers get blown, and how people get hurt_," he'd said, and those are the words that continue to play over and over in the eerie quiet in her mind. He's got a point, but that's not the _only_ way covers get blown. And though she'd been wary, though she'd been in utter _disbelief_ that he'd make up _that_ story for them, she _had_ played along. She _had_ been able to keep up with him, with only minor stumbles that luckily, Nathan and Kara would have never caught or thought anything of.

Someone else, though…

Someone else has already been suspicious of them. Someone else, with a flashlight in the woods, on a dark night when Kensi had abandoned all sense of cover and investigated like an agent. Something like that makes every subsequent slip a little bit more dangerous, because it simply emphasizes that there are eyes on them at nearly all times, and maybe Nathan and Kara were innocent…but Kensi knows she's placed an audio bug on somebody enough times to know that someone else could have easily bugged them before dinner.

And while she's confident in her abilities, well, even she can't deny that her partner is _better_. She's the better sniper, the better shooter, the better driver (well okay, maybe not); there are plenty of skills in the field that she bests him at. But he's got years and years of undercover experience in much less controlled situations than she does. She's always had backup a distress-word away; as he'd said the first time they'd met, he's always been on his own. And from the shadow she can see in his beautiful blue eyes sometimes when he talks about those days, Kensi can deduce that Deeks has come close a time or two (or more, she thinks with a shudder) to not making it out alive.

She's faltered far too often to believe with one hundred percent confidence that she'd be able to hold her cover six months or eight or even a year into an operation in the face of an angry drug lord or a gang of illegal arms traffickers or worse. She's broken cover several times when she's been told specifically _not_ to. And she's had it blown a number of times thanks to unlucky circumstances out of her control, but even then, she thinks she might have been dead if Callen and the team hadn't stepped in.

And even now, Kensi doesn't realize how clear the tension in her body is, how easily she's given away that something heavy is weighing on her mind until she feels his hand drift away from its place at her belly. The sudden absence leaves a slight chill behind, but it's a different kind of chill that rushes through her body as his fingertips flutter gently along her upper arm, tracing slow, gentle shapes along her soft skin.

But what truly makes her shiver is the soft, gentle press of his lips against her neck, a tender kiss that becomes two, three, then a fourth before he whispers, his breath teasing already warm flesh. "Kens…" She sighs then; she can't help it. Any other time, she thinks she'd expect a flirty, cocky comment about what he's _clearly_ doing to her, but tonight, he simply nuzzles closer, concern laced deep within his whispered words. "You okay?"

Any whispered answer she has dies before ever reaching her voice. She _can't_ say she's fine; he won't believe it, and really, it's not true. Instead, all she can really do is offer a slight nod, knowing he feels it, as close as they are.

"You sure?" he presses, feeling her squirm gently against him. She can still hear the tinge of regret in his voice; knows he's still bothered by everything that had transpired earlier. "I feel like I keep losing you somewhere," he adds, pressing another soothing kiss to her skin. "You keep…drifting."

Sometimes, she hates just how well he can see through her. Sometimes, she hates just how well he can _read_ her, just from her face, from the way she breathes, from the way she feels in his arms. She can try as hard as she wants to keep her nerves hidden far beneath the surface, locked up where no one else would ever be able to find. It works with Callen; it works with Sam. But Deeks…well, sometimes she thinks she couldn't hide something _invisible_ from him.

Then again, with the way he's stroking her arm and the gentle kisses he presses to her throat, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could easily get her to divulge her very deepest secrets to him, just by keeping that up. Her cheeks flush at the thought because she's _Kensi Blye_, that kind of thing just _isn't_ supposed to work on her. But with Marty Deeks inches away from her in the bed they share, his mind and heart clearly burdened by something but pushing that aside for _her_, she can't help but melt just a bit. Just a bit.

And somehow, some way, the tender caress of his fingertips combined with the steady flutter of kisses (_God_, they're crossing so many boundaries tonight…) has her walls beginning to crumble away as he coaxes a secret, hidden fear out of her. In the daylight, the question would _never_ leave her lips. But tonight, with so many emotions bubbling dangerously up inside of her and so much growing tension between them, she finds herself uttering the words before she can even think to hold it back. "Are – are you ever…"

She stumbles though on the final word; it's as though she can't force it out. It's not part of her vocabulary; it's not something Kensi Blye faces. From anyone else, and usually from him as well, she'd do _anything_ in her power to keep it hidden. It's fear – pure, unbidden, chilling fear. Anxiety, worry, apprehension…_fear._

His kisses pause in the silence that follows, and Kensi finds herself suddenly holding her breath. When she lets it out, it's a shaky exhale, one she knows Deeks at least hears, if not feels. It's another moment before he speaks, and when he does, Kensi's glad her back is still to him because no matter how she tries to fight it off, she feels the heat of shame creep into her cheeks. "Scared?" he whispers.

She doesn't reply, but the way her body tenses in his arms tells him everything. And that's when he _has_ to meet her eyes. He shifts against her, pulling back just enough that he can gently tug at her elbow, coaxing her gently onto her back beside him. It's a moment before she lets herself meet his gaze, but once she does, Deeks thinks he's probably never seen her quite this unguarded before. He knows it's got to be the darkness, the closeness, the exhaustion that comes tied tightly to any long-term cover, but at the moment, he doesn't care why because suddenly, he's seeing more than she's ever allowed him to see before. "What's going on, Kens?" he asks gently, stroking a fingertip in a slow circle along her elbow. "Talk to me."

Kensi bites her lip, not even challenging that he hadn't answered her question. It's a long moment before she answers, but once she does, she turns her gaze to the ceiling, unable to face him as she admits what she's certain he already knows – that she hadn't been entirely truthful with him last week. "Do you…do you remember that night last week? When I was outside?"

Deeks merely nods in reply, and Kensi swallows quickly before pressing forward. "I, uh, I thought I saw something," she continues, focusing on his gentle, steady caress of her arm. He doesn't pause, doesn't hesitate, doesn't even call her out on her lie – that's enough for her to know that he had truly never bought her story about a handful of teenagers stealing firewood for target practice in the woods. No, it'd been a single person, a single flashlight; an intruder with no interest at all in the untouched pile of firewood at the edge of the woods. "I woke up from a – a dream and went downstairs to get something to drink…and I saw a light. Someone with a flashlight. And I…I think they were trying to see inside the house."

"And then the next day, we found the camera at the pool," Deeks adds. His words spark the memory (as if she could _ever_ really banish it from her mind), and that's enough to send a shiver down the length of her spine. God, the _pool_…

She swallows hard, forcing herself to nod confidently in acknowledgment before finally, _finally_ admitting the worry that's taken root deep in the pit of her stomach. "Do – do you think we've been made?"

Deeks studies her face closely, from the way her eyes tend to avoid his to the way she nibbles at her lip a little too deliberately to appear nonchalant. He can't say he's ever seen her quite like this, really; usually, she's the one still jumping in headfirst when there's the possibility that a cover may be compromised. It worries him – both sides of it worry him, actually, and as he shifts a little closer to her, he decides to press a little further. "Do you?"

Kensi _really_ wishes he hadn't turned that around on her – what she'd wanted was confirmation that they _hadn't_ been made. But clarifying that would mean admitting that he's the expert at this…and she can't really say she's ready to go _that_ far yet. "I don't…know," she says slowly, punctuating her words with a deep sigh. "That night, I thought for sure we had, because why else would someone be trying to see inside the house? We're the newest to the street; if anyone thought they were suddenly being watched, we'd be the ones to target. It seems pretty obvious. And there are just…people I get a strange vibe from, you know? That couple down the street – Brett and Polina. I just…there's something off about them. Something that doesn't _feel_ right. And aside from that…why else would anyone stick a camera out at the pool? Or anywhere else in the house, for that matter? Part of me feels like we were probably made before we ever even moved in."

Pausing there, she shifts onto her side, facing Deeks fully for the first time that night. "But then part of me thinks, if we've been made, why the hell are we still alive? Why hasn't someone gotten rid of us yet? Why let us stick around and collect more information?" Pursing her lips, Kensi searches Deeks eyes for some sort of confirmation, some answer to all the questions lurking beneath the surface, but there she finds nothing. Nothing but the typical calm, azure sea that she thinks she could fall into and happily drown at any time. "I can't…I don't know what my gut is telling me," she admits, hating herself for being unsure of _anything_. "I go back and forth – I can't tell. I don't know."

Calmly – almost infuriatingly so – Deeks lifts a hand to her slightly mussed locks, evidence of a few hours' restlessness. Gently, he brushes the strands back from her face, letting them fall freely over her back. Without a word, he tenderly presses two fingers to her exposed throat, just above her racing pulse – it tells him all he needs to know. It mirrors her heartbeat, accelerated in agitation, stemming no doubt from the unknown, the surroundings that she's unable to control or explain.

Kensi Blye doesn't like being in the dark. She doesn't like not being in control; doesn't like being unable to see what's coming just around the bend. And Deeks would bet anything he has that the fears she admitted are only the tip of the iceberg, only the surface thoughts in her imagination, racing just like her heart.

Her brow furrows in confusion at his touch. "What do you think?" she probes slowly, trying once more to acquire his take on the situation – whether she admits it or not, Kensi knows she'd feel better knowing what he thought of it all.

Deeks lets his touch fall away from her skin before he answers. It's an honest answer, certainly, but it's not the answer to her question, nor is it an answer she wants to hear. "I think that," he begins quietly, holding her gaze all the way through to the end, "maybe you're not ready for long-term cover. Deep cover."

It takes a moment for the weight of his words to fully hit her. The confusion strikes first; it's not an answer that logically follows what she'd asked. But before her mind has the chance to process it fully, to figure it out in context, the spark of indignance flares within her. Indignance, anger, irritation. He may have more experience than she does; hell, she might even _agree_ with him on some points. But _how dare he_ say that to her face when they're both in this same op together?

Deeks knows her well enough to see her anger before the telltale fire sparks in her eyes. He's seen that fire plenty of times before; it's that fire that always, _always_ warns him that he's stepped a bit far over the line. He knows it's a bit foolish when she's looking at him like that, but Deeks can't help but smile slightly – she wouldn't be _his_ Kensi if she didn't grow defensive at his simple yet daring declaration. He can sense the retort coiling in her mind and, before she can even summon her voice, he touches a gentle knuckle to her lips, his eyes silently requesting permission to clarify.

It's permission that she doesn't want to grant – _God, _how she doesn't want to grant it. And why should she? He's laying beside her now, in this bed they've shared for two weeks, with the _nerve_ to question her abilities. He's questioning her ability to do her job. And that's _not_ something she can stand for because _dammit_, she's fought just as hard as the rest of them to get to this position. To have him say her skills aren't up to par…well, it's a direct personal attack to her.

He senses that she's about to argue, but rather than raise his own voice to interrupt, he simply holds her indignant eyes with his own clear, calm blue ones, a single, gentle word spoken from his lips. "Please?"

She's clearly not happy about it, if the deadly look in her eyes is any indication. But after a moment, Kensi sighs, tilting her head in a slight nod. Deeks wants to smile, but that's not a desire he gives into, not right now, not when she looks like she might murder him for whatever words might come out of his mouth. Despite this, though, he's honest with her – can't imagine not being honest with her, really. "You need to relax," he breathes, letting his knuckle drift featherlight along her jaw. "That's what I mean when I say you're not ready for it. You could kick all the ass in the world, Agent Blye…" Pausing, he does allow a tiny smirk to touch his lips here. "But if you can't relax into your identity, you're never going to excel at the deepest covers.

"And what I mean by relax," he continues softly, his hand coming to rest gently at her shoulder. He lets his fingertips glide along the length of her arm, ghosting over the inside of her elbow before finally landing at her wrist. It's meant to be soothing; calming, but whether or not it works, he can't tell simply from her eyes. "Is that you have to really…sink into your character. You would have to _be_ Melissa. Not just play her…_be_ her. And you have to be _every_ part of her," he whispers, lacing his fingers between hers. "We wouldn't be allowed to have moments like this – where you're you, and I'm me. We wouldn't have check-ins back at Ops. We wouldn't be able to break away from this for even a second – because that second, that one, solitary moment…that could be all that separates you from a completely blown cover. From death."

Deeks feels it then, the tiniest of shivers as it courses through her body next to him; she tries to hide it by shifting slightly, but he still feels it. "Remember when I said we have to put on a good show? That we have to play it through?" He waits for her gentle nod before he continues. "I meant that. You have to play it through no matter what. Even if the case is slow and drawn-out; even if it feels like it's going nowhere. Even if you feel like your cover has been blown – you play it through. You _can't_ start to second-guess things, because that's when you screw up."

He holds her gaze for a moment longer, hoping to drive the gravity of his next words fully home to her. "That's what I meant, when I said I didn't think you were ready. You're not calm, Kens. You're not relaxed. You're letting Agent Blye step up when you need to be Melissa. You're over-thinking. You're letting the what ifs rule you – and if you did that during a deep cover…they would eat you alive, Kensi. You're trying to rationalize every little thing, trying to fit everything into either our cover's blown or it's not, and in doing that, you can let the whole assignment get away from you. It's good to think from all sides like that when we're working a case from the outside, but when you get in, you _can't_ give the impression that you know anything – you can't worry about having your cover blown because to the world, there's not supposed to even be a cover. You have to dive all the way in, and you have to be comfortable with it. That's when you'll be ready."

"How – how do you know?" Kensi whispers, her mouth suddenly dry as cotton.

"Aside from you tossing and turning and kicking the hell out of me tonight, then telling me point-blank that you just can't figure out if we've been made or not?" He smiles slightly. "Your pulse," he adds, watching realization bloom in her dark eyes. "Adrenaline rush – I bet your heart's been racing for quite some time…"

Kensi exhales deeply, but otherwise chooses not to acknowledge that particular observation. "So you're saying we're supposed to jump in and not…have concerns?" she asks, choosing her words carefully. Fear and worry; they're not words she particularly wishes to use again. "Just…jump in blindly?"

Deeks chuckles. "That's not what I said at all," he chides her gently. "I said you need to relax. You need to put on a good show. Roll with the punches as if you expect them. There's a fine line you have to walk in order to be great at this job – being good isn't enough. You _have_ to be great…or, well, you're going to get killed out there."

His blunt words coupled with just how close to death Kensi's found herself in the course of a few ops drops like a block of ice deep into her stomach. It's apprehension, because while she _is_ a great agent, a _born operator_ in Callen's words, she's never been placed in a situation where help wasn't just moments away. She's never gone in and been unable to get out – truth is, this is one of the longest covers she's ever assumed, and the thought of getting in so far that she can't save herself…well, it's honestly terrifying.

It must show in her eyes (much to her dismay) because her partner offers her a soft smile, gently touching his knuckle to her cheek again. "Like I said, fine line," he repeats. "You have to be confident, have to truly immerse yourself…but at the same time, I think that if you're _never_ scared, it makes you reckless. You've got to _know_ that you're _damn_ good at what you're doing, but you can _never_ assume you're invincible, that nothing can touch you, because _that's_ when you really get in trouble with this job. You can be too hesitant…or you can be too cocky – and that's when you start taking too many risks. _That's_ where you start making mistakes."

His smile falters and his gaze darkens then as the memories from his own past begin to resurface. Deeks has spent years fighting some of them back, wishing they would completely disappear, but now, he lets them fill his head. _Only for Kensi_, he thinks. Only for her would he ever relive some of those memories.

With a deep, heavy sigh, Deeks shifts onto his back next to her, his eyes to the ceiling. Immediately, Kensi finds herself missing the closeness, the proximity, the _intimacy_ they'd had just moments before, bodies touching, faces mere inches apart. For a moment, she's shaken by just how much of a chill is left behind as she finds herself wanting one more time the warmth of his arms around her. "Deeks?"

"It takes a long time to be good at this job, Kens," he murmurs, feeling suddenly dizzy despite lying flat on his back. Deeks closes his eyes; flicks his tongue over parched lips but in the end, neither are really more than sandpaper. "And it takes a – a few trips to hell and back."

Swallowing hard, Deeks struggles to gather every last bit of resolve he can find, because what he's about to do is something he's _never_ done before. He's about to open the door he locked a long time ago, a door he'd sworn to never open. The door to his past, his history that he's guarded perhaps more carefully than Kensi has guarded her own.

Lucky for him, though, nobody's ever really cared enough to dig into his past, to search out his secrets. To connect the dots between why and how he's become so skilled at this job, and how it all connects to everything that makes him Marty Deeks.

He knows full well that sharing those secrets could forever change how she sees him.

He knows it could forever change _them._

It's another long, silent moment before Deeks exhales deeply, feeling the beat of his heart accelerate just a bit as he makes his decision. He forces his eyes open and makes himself meet his partner's curious gaze as he gathers the words in his head, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of memories from his past.

And then, he begins.

* * *

**_to be continued_**


	10. ten

_**A/N:** Yeah...it's been three months. Oops? Promise it wasn't supposed to be. This chapter has been in the making since last July, it's my favorite of the story, and for some reason it just kept adding to itself (apologies to anyone who fell over and died at the word count in the alert email, lol). __Huge, huge special thanks to the awesome **ZBBZL, **without whom this chapter would have never come together, between roadblocks in the writing and sinister Word crashes with mysteriously disappearing auto-save files...but anyway. Thank you for fighting through this one with me, A. You're the best. :) _

_And thank you to everyone else who is still reading and loving this story - I'm continually blown away by every single comment/PM. So, to all of you, I hope this is worth the much too long wait. Hopefully 11 will NOT be three months away! _

* * *

_It's another long, silent moment before Deeks exhales deeply, feeling the beat of his heart accelerate just a bit as he makes his decision. He forces his eyes open and makes himself meet his partner's curious gaze as he gathers the words in his head, bracing himself for the inevitable onslaught of memories from his past._

_And then, he begins._

-:-

Propping herself up on her elbow, Kensi gazes down at him, holding her breath in anticipation. Her eyes take in the somberness on her usually cheerful partner's face. It's almost got to be a trick of the shadows, she thinks, but suddenly, as he lays beside of her now, her partner looks so much older, wearier. And then, she's hit with a pang of shame as she realizes just how very little she truly knows about him, his past, his life.

She knows the little things – his favorite food (not Twinkies), his favorite kind of music (not techno). She knows most of his favorite lame jokes (admittedly, those still make her laugh no matter how many times he tries to pretend they're brand new). She knows his best friend; knows he's really the only one Deeks has ever had. She knows he shot his father as a kid; she knows he's never really been a favorite of anyone at the LAPD though she's never figured out why that might be because this man she works with day after day…well, she certainly doesn't _hate_ having him beside her every day.

But beyond that…what does she _really_ know about Marty Deeks? What does she know about his past? What does she know about his years of the undercover life? What does she know about who he truly is; what does she know about what _made_ him who he is?

It's not a whole lot, she realizes with a jolt. And even though she hasn't been incredibly open with him about her past either, it hits her then that he knows more about hers than she does about his.

And she'd never really asked, either.

It's that realization that has her leaning just a little nearer to him, listening just a little closer as he speaks, his voice never really rising above the level of a most intimate whisper. "There's only one way that you really know that you're cut out for this job – you don't know for sure until you've made it through the worst they can throw at you. Until everything goes so far south that you don't know that you can hold it together…but you do, because you _have_ to. You don't have another choice. And, if you've got a good handler, a good team behind you, maybe your covers might be so good that you never really face that possibility – maybe you never risk being made. Maybe you always get in and get out before everything starts to implode. But…you never really know that you're _ready_ for this, that you can take whatever is thrown your way, until you've had your strength and your resolve and your very soul tested beyond the limits of what you ever thought possible. Before that, you're lucky. After that, you can say you're _good_ at this."

Pausing, Deeks swallows hard, already feeling the burn of acid at the back of his throat. "And…it's hard for someone, for one of _us_, to be good at this, because you have to – to do things that you know with _every_ fiber of your being are wrong. You have to do things that you'll regret for the rest of your life. You have to…you have to _hurt_ people. Sometimes, innocent people. Because when you're under, sometimes _you_ are the bad guy. Sometimes, you're the criminal or even the killer you've sworn to bring to justice. You have to do things that _disgust_ you, that make you sick to your stomach. Deep cover is _rarely_ like this – you almost never get a cozy assignment like this, a big house in a rich neighborhood, a lazy lifestyle, a beautiful wife…" A ghost of a smile touches his lips, but it's gone so quickly that Kensi wonders if it'd been her imagination. "This is _heaven_. But some covers…" A shudder tears its way through his body, leaving in its wake the heaviness of nausea. "Sometimes, you think _hell_ would be heaven, compared to some of the things you have to do."

It kills him, oh _God_ how it kills him, but Deeks forces his eyes to open and meet his partner's, knowing that if she knew of some of the horrors he's committed over the years, all for the sake of a case, she might never look at him the same. She might never forgive him; might want nothing more to do with him. "And the worst part of it is that everything you do…it _doesn't_ get boxed away with your alias in a neatly packed, labeled carton in some dusty archives room somewhere. If you ruin someone's life forever, if you break someone's heart, if you – if you take an innocent life, you have to live with that, because it _wasn't_ your alias that did it, in the end. It was _you_, and you know that. And sometimes, there's no amount of post-op therapy that can absolve you of that guilt. Sometimes, you leave an assignment knowing that even if you saved a thousand lives in the end, you'll never forgive yourself for the one innocent one you destroyed."

A dark, grim smile curves his lips for a brief moment. "Nobody ever tells you any of that when you sign on to this job. Nobody ever tells you that the consequences can – can destroy you. Nobody ever tells you because, well, who would ever _want_ this life, right? Who in their right mind would _want_ this?"

"But I thought…" Kensi trails off, furrowing her brow in confusion. He'd never really shared too many details of his past assignments, but she'd always assumed that Deeks couldn't get enough of it. That it was a rush to him, something he couldn't walk away from. And she'd always thought _that_ was the reason he was so very reluctant to leave the LAPD behind for good – it couldn't have been because of the unbreakable bonds he'd formed with his fellow officers because, well, there _weren't_ any.

He gives a quiet chuckle, though it's void of any true amusement. "You thought that it was my thing?" he finishes for her, his gaze toward the ceiling. He shrugs slightly. "It is. It was. It was…it was what I lived for. It was my life. And I was _perfect_ for it."

The smirk that usually accompanies his words as he proclaims the depth of his skills is noticeably absent now. Instead, his voice is little more than a hollow, empty shell, utterly devoid of pride, and it doesn't take long for Kensi to realize that, as good as he may be at this job, sometimes, he wishes he wasn't. For the first time, he allows everything to fall away, letting Kensi see for the first time that he's not as pleased with his myriad of skills as he would have everyone believe.

It's a mask, she realizes. Nothing more than that, no different than the ones she so frequently dons. She'd never questioned it before, but now, with the shadows playing upon his face, highlighting a lifetime of pain and regret, she wonders how she never, ever saw any of it before. She _knows_ he's just as good as she is at hiding what needs to be hidden, but she'd never even suspected there was this deeper, darker side to him.

Maybe she'd never _allowed _herself to suspect it…because it was simply safer that way.

Because after Jack's disappearance and Dom's death and Callen's shooting, in the end, it was best to avoid getting attached.

Because someday, she'll lose him.

She shudders, hoping he doesn't feel it as he continues. "A lot of how good you are at this job comes from what you have outside of it. I mean, there's always an exception like Sam, but look at you and Callen. Single, no kids, no long-term obligations." He shrugs. "That was me too. When I came to the LAPD, I came with nothing. No attachments, nothing to hold me back. Nothing to hold on to. "And I…" His voice cracks slightly in the wake of a fierce wave of emotion and Deeks pauses, momentarily silenced by the hollow ache he's unable to fight back. It's been so long and he's come so far – even _he_ can't deny that. But even after all those years, it's still there, ingrained so deeply into every fiber of his being: the paralyzing fear that if he _fails_ to hold the emotion back, that if he succumbs to the emotion, then really, what _is_ he good for?

The memories flicker through his mind before he can stop them – tears, met with the stinging, burning agony of the whip of a belt; innocent questions of _why_ met with the sharp strike of the back of a hand to his mouth. Bruises, welts, the deep, hidden wounds from every verbal dagger – constant declarations of his lack of worth, snarled accusations of how he'd ruined his father's life the day he was born, furious threats of how he'd never reach his next birthday if he didn't man up and dry his damn eyes.

Seems the scars inflicted upon an eleven year old boy never truly fade away.

He reaches up and rakes a trembling hand through his hair, unable to silence the voice in the back of his mind, reminding him that were he still a prisoner in his childhood home, that tiny lack of control over his emotions would have ended with his hands blistered and raw, throbbing with agony. "I still remember sitting in front of Bates, my resume in his hands. For a long time, he didn't say anything – he just read and reread. Eventually, he set it down on his desk and just looked at me. Sizing me up, I guess. And then he asked me one question – just one. 'What makes you think you belong here when it looks like you can't find a home anywhere else?' And I guess it was a fair question…I mean, I had little things here and there – little minimum wage jobs, couple of internships I bailed on, the law thing…I guess it looked like I couldn't settle. So why should the LAPD take a chance on me when it looked like I'd back out in a year's time, maybe less? Flight risk, you know?"

"You must have impressed them somehow," Kensi points out quietly, shrugging lightly as he turns his eyes to her. "I mean, they didn't turn you down."

"No, they didn't," he agrees. "But that was all I heard during my field training – why was I even bothering to go through with all that if I was just going to throw it away in a couple months? Nobody really expected me to make it – guess they figured if I hadn't found something I was good at by now, I sure as hell wasn't going to be good at this. They didn't think I'd last." Deeks stops for a moment, a low, derisive snicker escaping his lips. "I think they expected it to get to me…but then again, I was used to it. That was all I ever heard growing up, after all."

He sighs softly. "I made it, though. Finished all my training, earned my badge. Of course, that wasn't the end of it." Deeks pauses for a second, a sad smile at his lips. "But then I transferred to undercover. Robbery division just didn't feel right to me, and neither did homicide, but naturally _that_ couldn't possibly be the reason I requested a move. No, it _had_ to be because I couldn't cut it there. That I still couldn't find something I was good at."

"I tried to let it roll off my back, you know? I tried not to buy into it because _I_ knew the reasons. I knew why I wasn't happy on traffic duty or in robbery or homicide. And at the same time, once I jumped into undercover, I knew why I was happy there. But, still…"

His voice trails off, leaving the heaviness of hesitation in the air. When he speaks again, there's a note of under-confidence in his voice – a note of second-guessing. "At first, I could. But then, it started to get to me. I, uh, had to do required debriefings with the department shrink after all of my undercover ops – just like anybody else. You know, the typical meetings, just so he could sign off on me, make sure I was still human, still fit for duty after having to do…_things_."

A cold shudder passes through his body, but Deeks shrugs it off, choosing not to travel the length of that dark road. "Some people can't handle failure – like you, kind of. It eats at them, tears them down. Makes them push themselves to do whatever it takes to fix it, to make sure it never happens again. Me…well, there was an op. By this time, I'd been doing undercover for awhile – I was the veteran on the squad, actually. This op…something had gone wrong. I'd barely made it out. And here I was in the shrink's office, and he decided to push it a little too far. I was already pissed – at myself, at him, at everyone. I was ready to storm out of his office – in fact, I was on my feet, hand on the doorknob when he called after me. He didn't bother to get out of his chair, didn't bother to stop me – he just…had to get that last barb in. '_When it comes down to it, I think you're afraid of actually making the right choice. You can't handle success, can you, Marty?'_"

"What did you do?" Kensi asks quietly as her partner falls silent.

He scoffs. "I walked out and slammed the door behind me."

"That never really worked with Nate," Kensi comments softly.

"Didn't with this guy either." Deeks sighs, letting his head sink deep into the softness of his pillow. "I walked out of there determined to forget about it. Naturally, he probably made a note in my file and then brought it up every time I had to see him. He kept asking me – 'what are you so afraid of, Marty? Why do you keep running?'"

"And I thought it was ridiculous, because there actually was a time where people might have said that I finally had everything going for me. That maybe I'd somehow managed to make something of myself, despite where I'd come from, you know? And that's what I told him – I got into college on a full scholarship. I graduated with honors, got into law school. Graduated, passed the state bar exam, got my license to practice law. I mean, that sounded like success to me. But at the same time, I knew that wasn't what he meant."

Again he hesitates, still lacking the words necessary to suitably explain why he'd walked away from it all. Why he'd thrown away all he'd worked for; why he'd taken a step down when he could have been climbing upward. He hadn't had the words for the department shrink; now, he doesn't know how to explain it to Kensi either. Somehow, the reasons in his head that had always been plenty enough for him, well, they don't seem nearly good enough for her.

_He_ hardly feels good enough for her.

In the end, he merely closes his eyes and sighs, struggling to fight back the pain he thought he'd come to terms with long ago. Even after all this time, it still pierces him like a sword; here, with only the darkness to shield his soul from the eyes of his beautiful partner beneath the covers with him, it seems to hurt just that much more, so much that no amount of humor could ever hope to dull it. "That road, it just didn't work out for me in the end," he settles with, praying that she doesn't push. Not with this, at least. He'll give her anything but this right now; that's how badly he needs to forget.

He needs to forget that, despite all the work he'd put into his studies, all the fighting he'd done when no one ever believed he'd had the slightest chance of succeeding, despite not just passing the California state bar exam, but completely _acing_ it…in the end, he'd been swallowed by the fear that he was merely destined to do yet again the one thing he's ever truly succeeded at in his life: fail.

He'd grown up convinced he'd never amount to anything, after all.

And even with the world in his hands, he hadn't been able to escape that.

Hadn't been able to escape the lies embedded so deeply into his soul that they'd become truths.

He could have fought to open a thousand doors, a thousand doors that could have taken him anywhere. But at the end of the day, none of them would have led him to that elusive bastard: success. Triumph, victory, accomplishment – all of them always out of his grasp. Close enough to taunt him, never close enough for him to truly ever reach. "Jack of all trades, master of none," he murmurs, his eyes distant.

"What?" Kensi frowns.

He shakes his head. "It's uh…just something Quinn said to me, way back when…you know…" Deeks falters, knowing that's not a day either of them wishes to relive. He's still got scars from that day that haven't healed yet; the last thing he wants to do is reopen any old wounds Kensi had taken (and though he's certain she'd deny it to his face, he _knows_ he'd hurt her…and _God,_ if only he could take it all back). "He was right – lawyer, cop, wannabe fed – I never really fit the mold of any of them."

"You know that's not true." She can't _not_ say it now – he _has_ to know that. He has to.

It breaks her heart that the look in his eyes, oh those beautiful blue eyes, says otherwise.

Deeks shrugs as if it doesn't bother him – they both know it does, though. "It's true," he insists, forcing a fake, pained smile. "I don't have the same NCIS training that you guys have. You guys are methodical; you're smart, you think before you act. Me, I just rush in on instinct and hope things go the right way. I don't really…_belong_ with you guys and I think we all know it. Sam knows it. Callen knows it. Even you…" His voice catches and though he tries, he simply _can't_ meet her eyes. He _can't_. "If Hetty hadn't pushed so hard, none of you would have let me in."

Kensi opens her mouth to protest, but Deeks stops her. "I'm not blind, Kens," he whispers. "I could see it – none of you really wanted me there."

"God, Deeks," Kensi breathes. It's all she can say at the moment – really, she's not sure what else there is to say because, well, he's got a point. She _knows_ she hadn't been terribly warm to him in the beginning; she'd been even _less_ warm to the idea of him becoming her permanent partner…though, truly, it'd had _nothing_ to do with _him_. It hadn't been about her shutting him out for the hell of it; it hadn't been about her simply not _wanting_ him intruding on their team.

No. It'd been about _her_. It'd been about Dom, who'd been taken from them, who they'd found only to lose in the end; a _teammate_ they hadn't been able to save. It'd been about Jack, who'd known _everything_ about her, who'd _been_ her everything and _known_ it, and still had left her behind, broken and alone. It'd been about Nate, who'd never given up trying to break through to her, to coax her out from behind her walls in the security and confidentiality of his office, only for him too to disappear in the end. It'd been about her father, the man she'd looked up to, idolized, loved more than anything, only for him to be brutally snatched from the bounds of life in one night. It'd been about Callen and the five bullets in his chest, five bullets that had come frighteningly close to stopping his heart, taking someone else from her.

It'd been about a promise she'd made to herself, time and time again; a promise to _never_ let anyone get this close to her.

A promise that she'd broken in the end anyway because she cannot even _imagine_ life without the man at her side. Her partner. Her best friend. Her…

She shivers, goosebumps prickling over her skin because despite her best efforts, despite however much she'd tried (and oh _God_ how she'd tried) to keep him out, somehow, Detective Marty Deeks had managed to sneak into her life and make himself as ubiquitous and as permanent and as _necessary _as the very air she breathes. Her chest aches, utterly_ aches_ at the thought of losing that, losing _him_, but as is so often the case between them, he's got the words and she doesn't. He's got the words to lead them forward before she ever finds the words for even the tiniest whisper of everything she's feeling right now.

The moment slips away, and he's pressing forward. "It's not just you guys," he says, shrugging again – Kensi wishes he'd stop that because he's not fooling her in the slightest. "LAPD too. I got passed over time and time again for promotions – guess I just wasn't good enough. A kid who can go under so far to pass for the hardest meth junkie on the streets isn't really the type you want high up in law enforcement, I guess," he quips, a quiet half-chuckle escaping his lips. "It's pathetic, really, that law…well, it was actually the closest I ever had to anything really stable. It was the one thing I really ever accomplished on my own. The one thing I guess I could have…been proud of."

"So why did you give it up?" she asks quietly, realizing for the first time that, while he's mentioned it casually a few times, and she's joked about it with him, he's never really shared the story behind it with her – she's never even bothered to ask. And now as she does, her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, almost harsh in the thick air around them. He _should_ be proud of it, she thinks. Kensi's got a couple of old friends who'd thought about going into law – one never even made it into law school, and the other failed out after his first semester. She knows it's not an easy career path; knows it takes drive and knowledge and determination to power through to the end. It baffles her how someone could work so very hard for that only to turn away from it in the end.

He sighs heavily, a pained smile at his lips. "God…I wish you hadn't asked me that," he murmurs, rubbing at his tired eyes.

Kensi bites her lip, immediately regretting the question. She's not sure what else she can do because for the amount of pain in his eyes, in his voice, laying a gentle hand on his forearm seems like nothing at all. But it's all she can think of, so it's what she does. "I'm sorry…"

Deeks swallows hard, for a moment unable to reply at all. For the longest time, he hadn't been able to face the truth himself. He'd heard the voices for months in the back of his head, voices that no amount of alcohol or sleeping pills could drown out. If anything, really, it only made them louder. The nightmares came on more vividly; the darkness choked him, suffocated him, stole the air right from his lungs as it crushed him underneath. And as he lay there, begging for relief, begging for freedom, the chains that held him only seemed to tighten.

And the voices…God, the voices. His father's drunken, angry disappointment; his mother's utter sadness that he'd never made more of himself; even his best friend Ray, shaking his head in disbelief. _"You had the chance to make something of yourself, Marty. What the hell happened?"_

Deep blue eyes sting with emotion, and Deeks can't even be bothered to try to hide it; he knows it's audible in his voice, hoarse, low, raspy with pain. "It's pathetic…" he says finally, his gaze absently upward. "It's – I – I'm not –"

His struggle pierces her to the very core and Kensi shifts against him, letting her touch drift away from his forearm. She misses the connection, skin to skin, her palm to his bare arm, but this…this is suddenly much more intimate and _God_, she'd give just about anything to be able to offer more. Her gentle hand settles hesitantly, softly against his chest, just her fingertips first and then the full press of her palm above his heart. His gaze flickers to hers in the dark, just a moment, _only_ a moment, but God, it's enough. It's enough to break her, to make her wish she could take it all away because the pain in his eyes, the _agony…_she doesn't ever want to see that in those beautiful azure orbs, ever. "Deeks…"

She's giving him a way out. If it's too much for him, she's offering to let it go. And yet, for reasons that escape him, Deeks shakes his head and pushes forward, despite the fact that it _does_ hurt. He wishes he could play it off as nothing; wishes he could pretend that, just like everything else, it doesn't bother him. He wishes he could just laugh, offer her a lopsided smile, make some playful joke out of it because that's what Marty Deeks does with everything. But this…no. He can't just act like it doesn't hurt. He _can't._

Because, even after so long, it _does_ hurt. It does hurt, and Deeks can't even force a smile to his lips and deny that. "Pathetic," he repeats, his voice hollow. He wants to throw out a quip before he continues; wants to teasingly state that he hopes she doesn't think he's even _less_ manly after this…but he can't muster the will. He can't. "I guess I felt like I didn't deserve it," he admits finally. "It was all I wanted to do – I knew what it was like to be powerless, to be hurt by someone who's supposed to – to protect you. To love you. And I wanted to make a difference, to help get justice for – for them. For people who…who were like me."

He hesitates, finding it difficult to grant his voice to the words. "I could…I could never make it go away," he whispers, feeling the heat rise in his face. "I was _never_ going to feel like I deserved it; I was _never_ going to feel like I wasn't destined to screw it all up. My dad, he uh…never really saw any kind of potential in me; I was always a disappointment, a pathetic excuse for a son, a disgrace to the family name, you know?" He lets out a deep, shaky breath. "And he – he always made sure I knew it. The very last time I saw him…he was still telling me how much of a failure I was. How much of a failure I'd _always_ be."

"Deeks…"

He shakes his head – he's started it, so he might as well end it. "I guess I never really expected any…any more out of myself than he did," he says hollowly. "I was just waiting to fail. And uh, it's harder to screw up and lose everything when you have more to lose than when you have nothing at all. So I…I guess you could say I jumped ahead a few steps, tried to stop it from having the chance to happen. Stop the inevitable, you know?"

Deeks pauses, his gaze meeting Kensi's for one brief second. "Have you ever wanted something _so_ bad that you'd do almost anything to get it, only to realize that once you've got it, you've got _no_ idea what to do with it? That was…kind of what this was. I felt like I wouldn't be able to hold onto it. It's not that I was…_afraid_ of it. I just…yeah."

It's all Kensi can do to fight the shudder that pushes through her body. His words awaken a memory deep inside of her, one she'd tried long ago to lock away and bury forever. She knows the feeling well, that hopeless feeling of wanting something so terribly only for all of her efforts to fail in the end. The sinking feeling of despair she'd felt as she'd sat shivering on the living room floor all those years ago, shreds of wrapping paper littering the carpet and tears streaking down her cheeks. She'd done everything in her power to help him, to be there for him, to be that one bright light in the darkest depths of his illness. She would have given _anything_ to have _her_ Jack back…_anything_. She _had_ given everything.

And in the end, it hadn't been enough. Her everything hadn't been enough…and her everything had been swept away into the night. Her life, her future…all of it gone without a trace. Just…gone.

It's not really the same though, and Kensi can't deny that. While she had fought with everything she had, she hadn't once allowed herself to believe it would never be enough – that's just not who she is. She'd truly believed that she could get him back – and that was what had kept her going. To sense impending defeat before it ever happened…_if_ it were to happen at all…well, she can't imagine that hanging over her head for days, weeks, months…even years, and her heart clenches at the thought of this man, her partner, waking up to that fear each and every morning.

A fear so overwhelming that it made him give up everything he'd fought for.

There are truly no words she can utter in answer to that. It stuns her, just how much she finds herself aching for him, just how deeply that ache resonates throughout her soul with every beat of her heart. Before she even realizes the action, her hand is slipping underneath the cotton of his shirt, her fingertips tenderly seeking out the cadence of his heartbeat. It's exactly where her touch had been before, but suddenly, it's as if the thin barrier separating her palm from his chest had just become too much. Skin to skin, as close as she can be to him – and God, that's a thought, a forbidden desire that makes her shiver.

Any other time, the teasing quip would have fallen so easily from his lips – a playful remark of just how clearly his partner can't keep her hands off of him…but tonight, he can't even force it. Part of him wishes he could, just to reclaim some of the normalcy in their relationship, to reclaim some of what makes them so undeniably _Kensi and Deeks_, but he can't. He can't, and God how he hates that – he can't imagine losing_ them_. Her.

He forces that fear, cold and horrifying, from his mind before pressing on, lifting a trembling hand to rake through his hair. "You know, when I was shot…" His voice is rougher than he'd expected and he pauses, swallowing hard. "Hetty…she, uh…she told me that he was…that he was dead. Car accident, fourteen years ago. And I – I never even knew. When she told me, as I was laying there in that hospital bed, you'd think I would have felt relieved. Or even glad."

"But you weren't?" It's less a question that needs to be answered, and more just Kensi needing, almost _desperately _so_,_ to say something to him, anything at all.

He shakes his head, a tiny, wry smile momentarily tugging at the corners of his lips. "I was a failure; everything I did…it was worthless to him," he says quietly. "I was worthless to him. And this…it's going to sound _so_ stupid," he sighs. "But I…I always kind of wanted the chance to…prove that I wasn't. I – I wanted the chance to look him in the eye and show him that I'd…that I'd _become_ something. That I wasn't the failure he swore I was. I wanted to look him in the eye and say, 'you were _wrong.'_"

The pause that follows is brief, but at the same time incredibly heavy. Kensi shifts next to him, unable to deny the ache she feels deep in her chest. "All this time," he continues, "I'd been adding things onto my list of reasons…but turns out he was dead before I even achieved the first one. I worked two jobs the last two years of high school, trying to save up what little bit I could even though I was barely even making enough for gas. I worked hard, snagged some pretty decent scholarships for college – did whatever other jobs I could do to try to cover the rest. I had fun in college – had a blast, but I…I worked for everything I had. I fought for it. And I did well, but at the same time, all I could hear was his voice in my head, telling me I could do better. I _should_ be better."

Eyes closed, he traces his tongue slowly over suddenly parched lips, finally returning to the beginning. "Can't get much better than law school, right?" he quips quietly. "I _wanted_ it. And I knew I wanted it because I _wanted_ it, and not just because I felt like I had to…prove I was…you know. I…never expected to make it, though. I never expected to get _in_ to law school, never mind survive, graduate, pass the Bar exam. I had all these…crazy things I was going to do once I made it, you know? Once I could finally…relax. But in the end, I never really figured out how to do that. Relax, I mean." Scoffing quietly, he shakes his head almost imperceptibly at himself. "You probably think I'm a coward."

She doesn't. If anything, she thinks it's probably the other way around, really. She'd been the one trying to keep him at arm's length; she'd been the one unwilling to get too close because of the all too real possibility of losing someone else.

Someone else she'd grown to care about far too much.

But there's guilt to be found on both sides. Grow too close, maybe cross some lines that can't be uncrossed, form an undeniably deep bond only for them to be torn apart or for him to be taken away from her in the end? Or maintain the distance…and never truly discover the man underneath the jokes and the easygoing, carefree smiles?

Beyond all the questions and doubts, there's really only one thing Kensi knows with absolute clarity: all that they've been through together and all that's transpired between them…there's nothing that she would take back.

The quiet question is in the air between them before she can even think to silence it. "Do you regret it?"

It's a long moment before Deeks answers – it's the same question, yet oh so different than the one Bates had asked him last year. They're a funny thing, regrets – he's got a lot, certainly, sometimes more than he thinks one person should ever carry alone. There's a lot in his life that he would take back in a heartbeat; there are a number of things he wishes he could change, from the earliest memories of his childhood to as recently as this very day.

He'd abandoned the clean practice of law for the gritty streets of the LAPD undercover world, and really, there's not a lot about that that's been at all glamorous. He's found himself a hair away from death more times than he can count; he's seen many missions go quickly south, failed missions that not everyone involved had come away from alive. And truly, he's done a number of things for the good of an assignment that he wishes he could forget, that he wishes he still didn't have nightmares about from time to time.

But at the same time…there are a few blessed bright points in recent years that he wouldn't change for the world. It might only be for an assignment, and it might never, ever happen again, but at the moment, he's got possibly the most beautiful woman in the world in bed with him and that's something he'd have to be _insane _to wish to change.

In the years since abandoning the one thing he's worked the hardest for, he's gained a team of people he feels _truly_ have his back; more than that, he's gained a partner and a best friend he'd do absolutely _anything_ for; a partner and a best friend that he'd lay his life down in an instant for.

So does he still have regrets? Certainly; he thinks he'll still regret parts of it until the day he dies. But if he had the chance to go back; the chance to reclaim the career he'd wanted, with _no_ doubts about his future…if that meant never crossing paths with the woman beside him now, this beautiful, wild, badass, competitive as hell woman…well, he knows the answer to that.

Not a chance.

But it's much easier to assert the truth of that in the silent confines of his mind than to put something that deep out into the open, into the air between them. And in the end, he feels it may be just a bit much, too much for him to say, too much for her to hear. Just…too much.

Finally, he lets a drawn-out sigh slip from his lips, silently hoping that the words he manages to string together somehow convey everything he wishes he could say. "It would be easy to regret things, you know?" he begins, his voice rough with emotion. "I mean, all of the things I fought for – I let it all go. I…got rid of it. Like I said – when I sat down in front of Bates in his office for the first time, I had nothing, and yeah, sometimes I guess I do still ask myself why I threw it all away. But then again, having nothing…that was what made it _easy_ for me. Even from the beginning, it was easy for me to slip into any identity. It was easy for me to just be _anybody_. Easy for me to become just a random nobody on the street. The thing that made me so good at it was the fact that I _didn't_ have anything at home. I could jump completely in, no distractions. And, more than anything…"

He trails off, and for a moment he considers leaving it solely at that. The words are there, clawing at his thoughts, his conscience, his very soul, just as they have been since he was a kid. But they've never gone beyond those hidden places, locked away deep inside of him. These are words untouched by his voice, unheard in the heavy air surrounding him. To say them aloud now would be the first time he's ever said them, and that…well, that makes them much harder to ignore.

And it makes the pain behind them a thousand times worse.

He was always the kid who could do nothing right. His grades were never high enough; his chores were never done well enough. He was always the kid who was too loud; he was always the kid who joked around instead of applying himself in class. He was always the kid with the long sleeves in the summer; the kid whose hair was always a mess on picture day. He was the kid whose invitations to parties always seemed to mysteriously disappear; he was the kid who nobody really wanted on their team in gym. He was the kid who'd turned a gun on his own father, and his mother had never truly forgiven him for that despite the fact that he'd done it for her. For them. To _save_ them.

That kid had grown into the cop that no one really wanted around the precinct; the cop whose sometimes unscrupulous ways of getting things done always seemed to overshadow his merit. He was the jokester, the one who could never take things seriously enough. He was the perfect one night stand, but never the guy that any woman ever really considered keeping around because in the end, most of them wanted a ring and a promise of 'til death do us part, and Deeks is pretty damn certain that there's not a single woman he's been with who's thought he was capable of being that, offering that.

It's the same story that he's never, ever been able to outrun, and God, he's been running since they day he learned to walk.

No matter what the circumstances, that story has always ended the same way.

Marty Deeks has _never_ been good enough.

And truly, that's the reason that undercover work has always appealed to him so much. "It was always easy for me, even from the beginning," he says quietly, trying with every fiber of his strength to force back the demons in his past. "It was easy because, honestly…"

He pauses there, struggling with the words. He'd never dreamed that it would be this hard, not that he'd ever really envisioned sharing this much of his past with anyone else either, of course – he'd never imagined there might be anyone who would care, really. The fact that there _is_ someone who's asking him to tell his story; the fact that someone does care; the fact that it's _Kensi Blye_…well, that right there is enough to make him stumble over his words. Kensi is tough; she's badass, she's strong, she can be mean when she needs to be. And the truth is that his past, his story…as he's revealing it all to her, he's got this fear deep inside of him that it's going to be the end of their partnership, because to his own ears, the words falling from his lips make him seem anything but strong. He feels weak and broken; useless, even.

He's not sure he'd want himself as a partner, knowing all he knows.

He's not sure he'd trust himself to have _anyone's_ back.

And God, he hates it because he doesn't know what he'd do without this. Without _her_.

He doesn't want her to _doubt_ him.

He doesn't want her to walk away.

"If I'd stuck with law," he continues on a deep breath, "I'd have been, I don't know, Counselor Deeks. As a cop, I was Detective Deeks. But when I went under, I…I got to leave that behind. It was…it was always _so _easy for me because honestly…it was always a dream come true to be someone else. Someone who wasn't…_me_."

His voice is so heavy, burdened by years of pain from a seemingly endless battle. Kensi's heart aches for him and oh, how she wishes there was something, _anything_ she could do for him. Beyond that, she's mentally berating herself for never seeing it before. This man, her partner; he relies on humor and playful, superficial flirting to get through the day; he's always got a smile on his face and a devious sparkle in his eyes, but all along, it'd hidden what was truly underneath the surface. This pain, this regret, this…this _darkness_ that's chased him for most all of his life.

And hearing it all now adds _so_ many layers to this man she's come to trust with her life, this man she doesn't just _want_ by her side, but _needs_ by her side.

They're really all just the same, Kensi realizes, frowning slightly as she studies his face. They all in some way live for the chance to dive headfirst into a well-backstopped cover. For Callen, it gives him someone _concrete_ to be. Someone with a full past; someone with their own name; someone for whom only the future is uncertain, rather than the future, present, _and_ past. Even Sam, Kensi knows, has eagerly taken the opportunity to escape something in his own life once or twice with a cover. And Kensi herself…well, she'd come to NCIS with a purpose, certainly, but even more than that, the job gave her the chance to let go of the things in her own past that she'd love to forget, even if only momentarily.

And it's nice – that, Kensi can't deny. It's nice that Melissa's father is alive and well, a happily married retiree on the east coast. It's nice that the man who put a ring on Melissa's finger is still right there, still by her side. And it's nice that Melissa doesn't go into work each day with the very real fear that her job might leave her dying, bleeding out on the pavement.

Not that she _wants_ this life.

She doesn't want to be this stay-at-home housewife, gossiping with the neighbors in her free time, lounging by the pool in her bikini every day. She doesn't want to indulge in this leisure, this _laziness_ every single day of her life; she doesn't want to hear the neighborhood kids playing and laughing each day as she goes out to get the paper; she doesn't want her entire life to consist solely of shopping and socializing and the other daily activities that make up Melissa's life.

She doesn't want to trade Kensi for Melissa.

But oh, God, Kensi can't deny that, deep down, it's nice to be _happy_.

It's nice to not be _alone._

He swallows hard, and that's when he finally turns his gaze back to her. For the first time in what feels like forever, he forces himself to meet her beautiful eyes with his and for a moment, he allows himself the comfort he finds there – God, he could lose himself in those eyes. It crosses his mind then, and not for the first, the second, or the last time, that he could wake up to those eyes every morning for the rest of his life and not have a problem with it at all. To wake up with her in his arms, the scent of her all around him, the ends of her dark brown hair tickling his chest.

Right now, there's no doubt about it – she calms him. She keeps him sane; she keeps him grounded, and right now, she's holding him together against the crashing waves of his past as they surge over him, threatening to break him. "I got a rush from it. Until – until I got to the end. Until I got past the debrief and had to go home alone with what I'd done.

"How –" her voice hitches, but rather than feel even a moment's worth of embarrassment over it, Kensi simply swallows and tries again. "How far have you…_gone_?"

_Far enough to lose everything I ever knew. _Her simple question opens another locked vault of memories and Deeks' eyes darken as his mind drifts. It had been hard enough to live through those memories the first time; now, reliving them, they scrape him raw. Of all the questions Kensi could have asked, that's the one that he's dreaded since the beginning. He can't lie to her…but he can't tell her the truth either.

He _can't_. He can't lie here beside her and admit to everything he's done, things he'll never _ever_ forgive himself for.

The thing about this line of work is that it's all or nothing. Going all in is the only way to stay alive because the very first hint of hesitation can be all it takes. Sure, it's all for the greater good in the end; it's all in the interest of bringing criminals to justice, making the streets safer. That's the mantra he repeats to himself, even now, years after the fact. But what does it matter when, at the very heart of it, Deeks feels he should be imprisoned along with the bad guys?

After all, everything they'd done…he'd done it too.

Innocent lives torn apart, fathers who would never make it home to their families again, girls used and then tossed aside like broken playthings; the sharp burn of a foreign substance being forced into his veins followed by the blissful sensation of floating, of nothingness. _Gotta play it through, babe,_ he'd said to Kensi that day in the pool – in the past, though, the consequence for not playing it through, no matter what that happened to mean, wasn't simply that the operation failed. Back then, in the ops he'd immersed himself in, failing to play it through would mean a bullet to his brain or a knife to his throat.

In order to bring criminals to justice, he'd had to _become_ one of them.

In _every _way.

And not even the satisfaction of a closed case is enough to quell the thoughts that he's no better than any of them.

The only reason he's not locked up with the rest of them is because he'd been sheltered in the shadow of the badge.

And yet, no one with a badge should _ever_ be able to do the things he's done.

_"LAPD gave me a badge because I know when not to pull the trigger. And if I've lost that edge…man, I'm just another thug with a gun."_

The shudder that passes through his body then is much too strong for him to fight back. Just another thug with a gun…how many times had he played exactly that role for an op? How many times had he willingly caused another human pain, just for the integrity of an undercover op? How many times had he slipped _so easily_ into that role? It had almost been as if it were a part of him.

Almost as if that was who he really was.

More often than just occasionally, those are the thoughts that plague his mind. He's spent many a night shivering beneath blankets that offer no warmth, his stomach churning violently as he replays in his imagination all the atrocities he's committed. _For the good of the case_ offers him no comfort then, and the idea that he'd _ever _found comfort in that at all…

It sickens him to think that he could _ever_ find it within him to hurt so many, to destroy so many lives just for the sake of an operation. To inflict pain when his only goal in the beginning had been to help those similar to him.

Some nights, as he lays awake and untouched by blessed sleep, Deeks can't help but wonder if he'd sealed his fate the moment his best friend had placed that revolver in his hands over twenty years ago. Closing his burning eyes, Deeks swallows hard, the lump in his throat making it almost difficult to breathe. He's never really believed in a higher power; doesn't really believe in fate or destiny. Even so, he sometimes fears that even if he lives to a hundred (most days, he doubts he'll see fifty), he still won't have had enough days to atone for his sins.

A soft whisper of his name reaches his ears then, breaking through the silence that seems to have stretched on for hours. It's another moment before Deeks forces his eyes open, suddenly feeling so much older, so much more exhausted. The original question dances through his thoughts again, and it takes more strength than he thinks he has to summon his voice. "I can't, Kens," he breathes, feeling the heavy mix of regret, guilt, and despair weighing him down. He can't face what he's done, years later; he sure won't ask Kensi to stand beside him still, knowing all of that. "I can't go – can't go back there…"

Her apology is gentle, much like the subtle caress of her fingers above his heart. "I'm sorry…"

Deeks shakes his head. "No…it's just…" He sighs heavily, forcing himself to focus on the warmth of her presence beside him in an attempt not to be swept into the darkness of his past again. "I, uh…I've done a lot that I'm – that I'm not proud of," he says quietly. "It's the nature of the job. It's like…you try to think of it like a movie or something. That you're just playing a role and none of it is real. But it _is_ real. It's real, and it's not beautiful or glamorous or any of that. We're _not_ just acting out some meaningless role in a movie. There are…consequences that linger long after the screen goes dark. Sometimes it's horrible and vile and you know you'll never be able to scrub yourself clean of what you just watched happen. Or – or what you just _did_."

He shudders hard, then lets his gaze meet Kensi's for a brief moment, no longer than that. "You can't just…_not_ do something because you know it's wrong. Because you know it's a crime. Because you know it makes you no better than the worst of them. You don't have a choice. It's literally do or die, no matter what the assignment is. And you don't know how bad it's going to get until…until you're already in. Some of them…maybe they're not so bad. But some assignments…" Deeks exhales slowly, feeling his heart pound against his chest, just with the memories. "Some of them, I just…I wished they would just kill me and get it over with."

He hears Kensi's sharp intake of air beside him, but he carries on because if he stops now, he's not sure he'd ever continue. "There were uh, a handful of assignments where I'd have given _anything_ not to come out alive. Because…I knew if I made it home in one piece, I'd have to face everything I'd done, because it doesn't just go away. It's – it's _horrible,_ Kens. And I don't – it – I -"

His voice cracks beneath the weight of the regret he knows he'll carry for the rest of his life. The nausea threatens to overpower him; it's no easier to think about now than it had been to actually live through it, years ago. It's a moment before he's composed, before he trusts himself to speak again. "No one should ever be ready for that."

The shadows dance eerily across his face, agony apparent in the deep ocean blue of his eyes. Kensi's breath catches as she gazes at him; right now, there's nothing guarding him from her. No walls, no boundaries, and while he's often an open book anyway, this is an entirely new level and she can't deny the pang of guilt that strikes her deep inside because she's not sure she could ever find the strength to be that open with anyone and her past doesn't have near the demons that his does.

Swallowing hard, Deeks glances to the ceiling before his eyes close again. "I'm sorry, Kens…"

It's an apology that breaks her heart because there's _nothing_ he should apologize for. As far as she's concerned, she sees a man who went through hell as a child, hell that didn't get much better once he'd escaped from it. A man who still fights, despite knowing how easy it would be to give up, to quit trying, to come to the conclusion that there's no hope left at all. And God, she wishes there was someway she could vocalize that. But there's only one thing that comes out, one single, whispered word.

At first, he's certain he'd just imagined it. It's barely there, softer than the quietest whisper, but when his turbulent, stormy eyes meet hers and she whispers it _again_, it echoes in his ears like a gentle melody, one he's certain he'll hear in his dreams. It strikes him to the core; he's never felt such a deep pang in his chest from a single utterance…but then again, he _knows_ he's never heard it whispered quite like that before.

"_Marty…"_

Unless she's introducing him as Detective Marty Deeks, it's the first time he's heard his given name from her lips, and God, just the way it feels…it's so much more intimate than anything he's bestowed upon her in their short married life.

It'd been so very hard to meet her eyes before; now, he can't look away. There's something in his partner's dark gaze that somehow quiets the storm churning within, even if just a bit. Before, he'd feared what he would find in her eyes– maybe pity, disbelief, even disappointment (after all, he couldn't blame her if his story tonight had made her rethink their partnership). But it's none of that. No pity; no disappointment.

Instead, what he sees is something he can't entirely read. It's something that, in this moment with so many of his deepest secrets, his very soul laid bare before her, this moment with the warmth of her palm lingering just above his heart almost as if to steady it and God, how it does. It does – everything about her; her warmth, her gaze, her scent, her voice, her very presence next to him…he can't explain it. He doesn't feel at ease with the demons – he doubts he truly _ever_ will; but somehow, this woman, this amazing, beautiful woman that he's lucky enough to call his partner and best friend…

Somehow, she gives him a reason to fight, even on the darkest of nights when the nightmares and his own memories reduce him to little more than debilitating nausea and crushing guilt. Some nights, it would be _so_ easy to just surrender, to give in and let himself be swept away into that dark, agonizing sea…but then, he thinks of _her_. The sound of her voice, her laughter, the smiles she tries to hide from him; her competitive spirit, her pouting on the rare (getting less rare, though – he's learning her secrets) occasions that he beats her at something. Her scent, her warmth, her inability to find anything she's looking for on her desk but her uncanny knack of knowing immediately if he's moved her secret junk food stash just to tease her.

Somehow, that's enough for him to push forward. "You know," he breathes, his voice no more than a whisper lost to the night, "you asked me earlier if I was ever scared."

Kensi shakes her head gently, soft strands of dark brown framing her face. "Deeks…"

He knows that, after everything he's already shared tonight, that she's offering him a way out. A reprieve from the possibility of more pain. And it touches him, truly, because he would offer her the same – the last thing he wants is for her to ever hurt more than she has to. At this point, though, he can't take the easy way out. He can't just stop now.

At this point, though, he can't _not_ say this. He _has_ to.

And more than that, he has to say _this_. "I've done this for long enough that I'm not really scared." He pauses for a moment, his teeth pressed into his lower lip. "I've never really been afraid that something would happen to me. I mean...I guess the possibility was always there, but I don't know, it never really scared me. I was never afraid of...dying."

He wants to look at her. God, he wants nothing more than to seek out her gaze, those dark orbs he can drown within. He can't, though, fearful of what he might find there. "They tell you to be careful, because you're playing with fire. You can get yourself killed out there in a second flat. "I guess I've just never really been scared of that. If it was meant to happen, it would, you know? And I mean, at the end of it all, what's it really matter if I die?

He says it so dismissively, so flippantly that it stuns Kensi for a moment. There are no words, no simple, verbal statement to accurately simplify the swarm of emotions battling for control within her. There's disbelief that her partner, her fun, carefree, easy-going partner could ever have such dark demons in his past. There's anger at the idea that he's ever gone into the field with such a blatant disregard for his life, when so many people she's cared for have had their own lives snatched away in a mere nanosecond. Over it all, though, is a sense of crushing, agonizing sadness because she can think of a thousand reasons why it would matter if he died.

Why it would matter if she never got to see him again.

Why it would matter if she never got to hear him teasing her over silly things like Twinkies or techno again.

Why it would matter if she lost him.

The very thought chills her to the core.

She can no longer imagine her life without him.

He's continuing then, well before she can ever string together anything of her own. "What scares me is how…different this is," he murmurs. "When we were out at the mall, when we're trying to get to Ops and back without anyone noticing, when we - when we found that camera by the pool, when I found you outside that night looking for something..." Deeks closes his eyes, pressing his head deep into the pillow.

"I don't think we've been compromised. But I'm…" Deeks closes his eyes, pressing his head deep into the pillow. "I'm terrified that it's coming. And, more than that…"

His words fail him momentarily as his mind drifts, sifting up memories he knows will never fully leave him - the day he'd allowed the Russians to take her, only for her salvation to rest solely in his trembling hands; the day he'd found her, bruised and broken outside her mother's home, a suspect in the murders of her father's team; when he'd forced himself to let her go instead of refusing to let her out of his sight like he'd so wanted. When he'd allowed her to walk away from him, knowing the drive, the desperation for answers and revenge that had consumed her; when he'd let her go, not knowing if he would ever, ever see her again.

And had something happened to her, he would have taken the blame square on his shoulders.

Just as he would now; just as he knows he forever will. She's his partner.

But that no longer fully explains it.

(Perhaps it never really did.)

He swallows hard, seeking out his voice once more for the confession he prays doesn't send her running. "I'm _terrified_ of something happening to you."

Her body trembles and she's sure he can feel it as she brings a palm to his cheek, feeling the gentle scrape of his scruff against her skin. For a moment, she simply hovers, her breath mingling with his in the minute space between them. "Funny thing about that is…"

_Funny thing about that is I'm afraid of the same._

Her voice fails her then. It's a simple confession; the words are right there. They're just…not enough. Not enough to cover _everything_ that needs to be said. And she can see _all_ of the words, clear as day, as they flutter around in her head, just waiting for her voice to rise up to the task. And she can feel the conviction behind them and she knows, _knows_ beyond a shadow of doubt, that she's never felt so strongly about _anything_ before.

She'd bet her life on it right now – he's _not_ that person he thinks it is.

He's _more_ than everything he's believed for practically his entire life.

And she's terrified of losing him too.

He's the one and only one who can bring a smile to her face during her darkest, lowest days.

He's the one she knows, beyond all possible doubt, that she can always count on no matter what. The _only_ one she can truly count on and God, those are the words she wants him to hear, to know, to _believe_.

She _needs _him.

She _wants_ him.

She's afraid, though, that anything she might verbalize right now would sound entirely too empty, too hollow. There's just not much she can offer that would be _enough_ in the wake of his honesty, his openness in recounting his past, the horrors that will likely haunt her partner until the day he dies. Horrors that leave him truly believing all the lies – that he's never been good for anything; that there's nowhere he truly belongs; that he can never escape his past, leaving him destined to be no better than his father. That he's committed far more atrocities in his life to ever fully atone for; that he carries a crushing debt that can never truly be paid in full.

And God, how that _tears _at her.

He'd taken her hands and pulled her through the lasers; he'd been her soft landing even as the back of his head had slammed into the concrete. He'd trusted her judgment and let her do what she'd needed to do in order to finally procure the answers to her father's murder, and instead of reining her in like Callen or Sam or Hetty might have done, he'd let her go. He's never been afraid to jump in and attempt to cheer her up, even when all she wants is to be left alone; he's always the one at her door early in the morning or late at night with something sinfully delicious and utterly unhealthy to offer.

This same man who believes deep inside that he's little more than nothing to anyone…somehow, he's become her _everything_.

She needs to say _something_. And yet, the electricity is buzzing now, buzzing so loudly in her ears that the only thing she can hear over it is the deafening thud of her heart against her ribcage. Suddenly, she can barely breathe; can't tamp down the heat that's beginning to coil deep in her belly, embers that they've been teasing and stoking for two years, set utterly aflame by a simple confession and the look in his blue eyes. God, they shouldn't do this – they're partners and friends on assignment together, and there's a _thousand_ other reasons why…

It's so _dangerous_, lying here with him in the dark, the warmth of his body and his scent all around her. She needs to say something, _anything_, because the tortured look in his blue eyes tears at her; all she wants is to somehow dispel that anguish, to drive those demons away because she can't even count all of the times he's done the very same for her. This man, her _partner_…he's been there since the very beginning, even when she's tried to push him away…and if not for him, she knows of plenty of times over the past couple of years that she would have ended up dead.

So much that should be said…

She _needs_ him to know just what he means to her.

That she doesn't _want_ anyone else.

But then again, Kensi Blye has never really been good with words.

Her head spins, her every thought swirling together into nothing but mass confusion. But thought isn't what drives her now, and when his eyes lock with hers, all the commotion in her head quiets to a dull roar before fading away behind something much stronger, something that has been brewing for two years but tonight refuses to be silenced any longer.

She thinks she feels his heart accelerate beneath her palm; she thinks that should break the moment, before this ends up shattering all the boundaries between them (not that there are many left…). Instead, though, her gaze never even wavers from his as she whispers the two words she manages to string together. "Me too…"

And then, before he can even process her words, her lips are on his. It's gentle, barely there, but it's a kiss nonetheless and by the time her mind catches up to her actions, one kiss has become two and two has become far, far more than that.

It's the third before the surprise fades enough for him to respond.

By five, his fingers are threading gently through the silky strands of her hair, the softness incomparable to anything else.

By seven, she's shivering against him as he nips gently at her lower lip, already wanting more of this, of _her_.

And at some point, whether in the beginning when the kisses were soft and sweet and almost innocent, or maybe later, when press of her mouth had become much more insistent as the heat began to spiral around them…at some point, it had hit him that this has _nothing _to do with their cover stories. There's _nothing_ about sweet, innocent Melissa in these kisses. This _isn't_ his undercover wife, playing along with him in an attempt to sell their cover. It's not a play for the cameras, it _can't_ be – if there were cameras or audio bugs in the bedroom, the entire night would have already shattered their cover – his story, their spoken names in the darkness.

And Deeks…right now, he couldn't pull Justin back to the front if he wanted to. All his years of sharpening his skills when it comes to keeping his cover intact no matter what…right now, it all means nothing. He'd looked Kensi in the eye and pointed out the reasons why _she_ wasn't ready for deep cover, and yet, right now, he's no more skilled at this than she is.

Then again, there's never been that moment where what's real is better than the story.

Until now.

Until this assignment.

Until _her_.

And somehow he knows that she's right there with him. She's not in character when her fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt, tugging at it gently, making her intentions crystal clear. He's not in character when he lifts enough for her to pull it over his head and toss it away; she's not in character when she reclaims his mouth again, greedier than ever in the wake of the one, maybe two seconds they'd had to separate.

He's not in character when his palms sneak beneath her tank top, exploring smooth, warm skin underneath; she's not in character when she momentarily breaks the kiss again, a soft moan echoing in the space between them; she's not in character as her back arches sinuously, following the masculine caress of his hands as he pushes that soft material upward, letting it follow his own shirt as she's left uncovered above him, cheeks tinted and hair mussed and lips begging to be kissed again, though he doesn't do that until a breathy whisper of just how ridiculously beautiful she is falls from his lips.

She's not in character as her hips begin to slowly rock against his, whether by her own volition or involuntarily he has no clue but _God_, how good it feels. And he's most certainly not in character when a low, deep growl of her name fills the air between them, the quaver of desire in his voice only a small hint of the electricity coursing through him with every touch, every kiss, every remembered warning of just how dangerous and forbidden this is because there's _nothing_ about this anymore that's about maintaining the cover no matter what.

There's no Justin anymore. No Justin, and no Melissa. This woman in his arms, hovering over him now, driving him utterly insane, is his wild, sometimes insane, badass partner. The breathy sighs when his fingertips brush _just like this_ and the trembles that shake her body when his palms skate over heated skin _just like that_…

It's all Kensi Blye. _His_ Kensi.

She's the one who had kissed him; she's the one _still_ kissing him, her lips soft against his, kiss after kiss after kiss steadily pulling him farther under, drowning him beneath this wave. He's addicted, oh, he's addicted.

And yet, on some level, in some hidden part of his mind that's still managing to think clearly, he thinks that maybe he should put a stop to this. That he should stop them before any more clothing gets lost; before they push this farther than it was ever supposed to go. Before he allows something to happen that she might…_regret_.

Just the thought stings him because God, he's wanted this, wanted _her_, for ages.

But maybe…maybe he's not the only one. The look in her eyes before she'd kissed him…it sticks out in his mind now, and with a burst of heated clarity he realizes it's the same look she'd given him months ago in the bullpen, when she'd struggled with the words, unable to truly say what she'd wanted to say to him. Maybe she hadn't been able to find the words, but he'd seen it in her eyes – she'd known _exactly_ what she'd wanted to say, and that was why he'd stopped her then. Before anything she could say, or anything he might say, could have a chance to change things between them.

Then again, maybe change is inevitable.

And this time, maybe she'd simply refused to be silenced.

And the idea that maybe she wants this, wants _him_ in spite of his past, in spite of all the horrible things he's done while undercover; in spite of who he'd failed to become and who he is today…

Just the very idea that maybe to her, who he is _is_ enough…

That's not something he's ever felt before.

Her hands roam over his body, tracing slowly over muscles and scars, some she'd known existed, from his shooting and other small altercations he's been involved with for the job, and others she's discovering for the first time. They're small and mostly faded by time, but they're still there, reminders of a past he's never fully been able to leave behind. She parts from his lips only to trace a line of kisses down his jaw and the column of his throat, but he doesn't let her drift farther than that before he's guiding her back to his mouth, kissing her with a hunger that takes her breath away.

She shudders hard as his fingertips dance at her hips, sneaking beneath the waistband of her shorts and teasing the soft lace hidden underneath. It's not hidden for much longer though, and soon he's as intimately close to her as he'd been that day in the pool. If possible, though, she's burning hotter now than she'd been then. The sighs escaping her lips slowly become whimpers and soft moans; she's nearly carried away by the spell of seduction woven by his skilled kisses and his bold fingers.

And God, he's just as lost as she is. When his hands splay over her back, gently drawing her as close to him as she can be, the feel of her skin, her perfect curves and her smooth, taut belly, all blissfully bare against him, it nearly undoes it completely. It's almost too much, knowing all that separates them is the tiniest bit of lace when he'd once thought she would always be just a little out of reach.

Slowing the pace momentarily, he draws his fingertips gently over her shoulders as he tilts his head, breaking another kiss that he could have happily let go on and on. Instead, his touch drifts to her face; softly he brushes her hair back before his palms find her cheeks, warm with the heat of desire. She whines softly in protest and _that_ just about kills him because he doesn't want to stop kissing her either – her breath tickles his skin and it's all he can do not to lose himself in her. But she's his partner; she's his best friend and he's not about to just jump in headfirst without _knowing_ for sure. Whatever happens tonight, he still wants – _needs –_ her to be there in the morning. "Kens…" he murmurs, stroking her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

For a brief moment she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth – it drives him crazy from far away, but hovering above him, so so close to him…it sparks a flame inside of him and leaves him suddenly wondering why she's biting her lip instead of him kissing those lips. But his memory returns to him as her beautiful eyes flutter open to meet his gaze.

The first thing that strikes him is the deep desire he sees there. He's seen it there, on a lesser level a few times before…but only by accident as he's certain he wasn't supposed to catch her. He's often shrugged it off though; he'll tease her about it all the time, sure, but the idea of her _actually_ wanting him? He'd never really thought it possible until tonight.

Until right now, as he's seeing _everything_ he's feeling reflected in her eyes.

The question in his eyes is clear to her; it's the same question she's been asking herself. They've crossed a lot of lines, broken a lot of boundaries both during this assignment and before, but this…this is a line that, once crossed, can't be uncrossed. There's no taking it back, and Kensi recognizes that truth for all that it is, if the pounding of her heart is any indication - the pounding of her heart _and_ the fire deep in her belly.

The question could always be asked…does she _really_ want this? Or is it just because she feels for him, because she wants to take away some of the heartache he lives with, even for just a night?

And, while she _does_ want to ease that pain, well, she can deny it all she wants but the proof is there – proof through jealousy and innuendo at work and late night phone calls and movie nights. She _wants_ him.

Wants him _way_ more than any partner ever should.

He whispers her name again, but before he can continue, Kensi's touching a fingertip to his mouth, gently quieting him. She holds his gaze for a moment longer, a leisurely grin tugging at her own lips as she ducks in, brushing her mouth _just_ barely against his. And then, instead of a direct reply, she answers his question the same way he'd asked it: with a gentle murmur of his name. "Marty…"

And then, for the night, there are no more boundaries.


End file.
